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Forwarded to Order Division JAN.6 1903 

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(Apr. 5, 1901—5,000.) 


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RED WHITE & BLUE DAYS 













Red White & Blue Days 


By J 

Ruth Louise Sheldon 


t 


New York 
H. Ingalls Kimball 
M DCCC xcvm 





Copyright by 
Ruth Louise Sheldon 
M DCCC XCVIII 


TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 











He praised the thing he understood 
’Twere well if every critic would 




THE PROLOGUE 



PROLOGUE 

T HIS is the story of a part of the life 
of one with a sensitive soul; one who 
— like her mother before her — did 
not find in this world that which her 
nature craved. 

The few years of which you will read here 
are but the beginning of a life in no way fin- 
ished; — a preparation for something higher. 

You may not like the last part of my story. 
Perhaps it may seem as though she of whom 
I write may have taken some things too seri- 
ously in this world of deceit; an older person, 
or one who knew the world better, might pos- 
sibly overlook that fault, which has been so 
often repeated in all classes, that it seems as 
though it were an integral part of most lives. 

When you have done reading you will see 
that, with all her experiences, she is still in- 
experienced; — that her nature is so fine that 
it is impossible to make her understand the 
wrong things of the world. 


3 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


What lies beneath all her exterior polish will 
bear close scrutiny; no dishonorable acts or 
those which anyone could in any way cavil at. 
She is one who has never had the slightest 
inclination to walk on the edge of a moral 
quagmire, thinking her feet could not slip. 
There has been no scandal of her imprudent 
adventures. 

She has escaped unscathed the gossip of 
large places and small — has never had the 
slightest inclination to go as far as possible, 
and run the risk of not being able to turn 
back. She has not, in one single instance, 
tried to walk even a few yards on debatable 
ground, thinking, she being more fortunate, 
would escape that vague something into which 
another might sink. She has sung like a bird; 
danced with a spirit and animation which never 
flagged, with a freedom which no one has ever 
misunderstood, as though she had been trained 
for the ballet. She is, in short, as intelligent 
as she is refined. 

A threatening cloud hung over her for a few 
months, and then lifted. 

She is contented in her work; and no thought 
ever comes to her that she is not in her right 
sphere. 

Beginning life in a cold atmosphere— a life 
4 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of more or less Yankee worry, she had for 
teachers while a child those supremely wise, — 
and, in some things, hopelessly ignorant, — 
pedagogues who are generally disagreeable, 
and who always believe in corporal punish- 
ment for boys — sometimes for girls. Few of 
these teachers are ever swept with tidal waves 
of emotion; their faces show traces of the ex- 
periences their ancestors had gone through, 
as rocks show the course of prehistoric glaciers. 
Some sensitive natures — like the one I am 
going to portray, are by such an influence 
crushed and overwhelmed; others develop a 
tendency to religious ecstacy, and the results 
of many of the revivals of that date will not 
bear looking at with a microscope. A few were 
left hard and coarse, as they were born per- 
haps with a greed for sensation, or an over- 
weening sense of their own importance made 
the gossip and quibbling of a village fireside 
the chief relish of their lives. Most of us have 
had a little bit of the quibbling, and not many 
who have lived to fourscore years have escaped 
a revival. 

A revival was one of the festivities of the 
winter, which few winters of people escaped; 
and many a tear was shed from no other cause 
than the excitement which naturally comes 


5 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


when young people of both sexes are congre- 
gated. Do any of us think the boys or girls 
who went to the meetings and went forward 
to the mourners’ bench, to be prayed for, 
would have done so if those of the opposite sex 
had not been there? Not many of them, I 
think. I fear the tears of excitement which 
were shed, and which caused many a headache 
and many a heart-throb, saved very few; but 
let us be thankful even for them. But let us 
drop religion; it is not a part of my story. 

Sooner or later we all live in the past, and 
there can be no great evil in bringing that past 
near; but does it bring with it a feeling of real 
enjoyment? does the heart throb over the vic- 
tory of a good time or in melancholy gratitude 
that it was no worse? It is a humdrum per- 
formance as we look back on it, even if one 
of marked impression at the time. It seemed 
a simple life, but there was a subtlety in it 
which some saw and understood. 

It is a wonder her nature had any sweet- 
ness left, surrounded as she was for so many 
years by sharp, cold, and exacting people, 
most of whose voices, come from the cold 
winds of old New England, and from sour 
apples and the vinegar they used with every- 
thing. Tall, lean, lank, sharp-looking people; 

6 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


whose throats were always cleared with a warn- 
ing rasp before they spoke. Days passed in 
such stews as only old New England knew. We 
have all seen a rush, a pleasant hurry, perhaps 
a little fret; but have we all seen people stew? 
Oh! those old days when all farmers seemed 
to try and see which one could get up the ear- 
lier in the morning — four o’clock in the winter 
was nothing. I presume the getting up before 
sunrise was so they would have their pick of 
those worms of which we have all heard; ac- 
cording to my belief, they got germs enough 
even if they missed the worms. There must 
have been worms enough for all, if only all 
were willing to dig. 

The child’s advantages were no better, no 
worse, for living near such a set of orthodox — 
what shall we call them? it does not seem just 
right to call them saints, and, on the other 
hand, it will not do to call them sinners, even 
if they are where they can do nothing about it ; 
so we will not “ call ” them, for fear they come 
back. She started out with not a few of those 
whom we miscall “ Puritans,” and that may 
be where she got some of her pure ideas. It 
has always been a wonder to me that we have 
any novelists or poets, the life of those people 
has so very little in it to enthuse over or dream 
7 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of. S^ch a life seems at times hardly worth 
the living. 

The child of whom I write was like the down 
of a dandelion; nothing seemed to keep her 
spirit down. 

She was as light as a feather; she ran where 
others walked — and so she slipped lightly over 
a few years of as happy childhood as one could 
wish to know. Many a one has to begin life in 
a hard way, with little love and many crosses. 
And are those, whose ideal is love in a cottage, 
who soon come down to the prosaic, prepared 
for this change — this wakening from their rosy 
dreams? Too much work and too little play. 
The furrows in one’s face may not be any 
deeper, but they are generally brought there 
by work and worry, not by pleasure. Perhaps 
the regular hours of which we read and hear 
have a tendency to let our features drag or 
sag. Let us have the lines which laughter 
brings — not those of a bad temper or any 
harder work than we must. Let us have fits 
and starts of fun and pleasure — perhaps com- 
bined with work, not all work. We live in an 
electric world and our hearts may be over- 
grown, in one sense of the word; perhaps we 
are not very merciful to them at all times ; but 
what can we do? one cannot stop alone. 

8 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


But we are lingering too long over an intro- 
duction. We will try to please as many of our 
readers as possible and not spoil the story with 
a bad beginning; for whatever is written in 
passing from hand to hand, equally among 
those who understand and those who do not, 
only speaks to those who understand, and many 
pages are blank to many readers. 


9 



THE WHITE DAYS 






I. 


T hroughout the long hours of 

the night, in the coldest month of 
the year, a young mother fought a 
fierce battle for her life. She did not 
suffer without hope of relief, did not drag 
through the leaden-footed hours of heavy days 
following for nothing. She had her reward. 
Faith had been with her all through the long 
hours of the day, and love slept in her room at 
night — a baby -girl had come to her. She had 
worn her veil into the world, but had removed 
it, for hers was to be a face which needed noth- 
ing to make it attractive. She only wore it at 
first for luck, and some of my readers may 
not think she kept it on long enough, for her 
life, although happy for a few years, was not 
all bright; but we will not anticipate. 

This baby was the most wonderful baby, and 
must have the most wonderful name. Both 
father and mother had names enough in their 
minds for a dozen babies, and the poor little 


13 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


creature had a number tried on to see if any 
would fit; day after day one name after another 
was tried to see if they liked to speak them. 
A name was finally decided upon, and the baby 
was christened in church; and, not thinking 
she was getting the better of her father and 
mother, the minister, and the congregation, 
she set up a howl long enough and loud enough 
to take the roof off the church. 

The poor young father and mother were so 
mortified that they hurried down the aisle as 
fast as their poor scared feet would carry them ; 
but not fast enough to avoid hearing, just as 
they were going out, the minister say in a loud 
voice (which he had to use to be heard), “ Will 
someone please close that door? ” I am glad 
he was polite enough to say please. 

Well, the baby was named, but her name 
did her little good. She was never called by 
it at home. Her father called her baby for 
awhile, then began on Sis; and not thinking 
his wonderful baby ought to be just plain 
“ Sis,” called her Sisero. So this is the way a 
girl came to have the name of Cicero; but, 
if my readers do not object, I will spell the 
name with an “ S ” instead of a “ C,” or some- 
one may forget it is a girl they are reading 
about. 


14 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


Sisero went by this name for years; in fact, 
until she was a woman. She was born in a 
little town called Newington, about five miles 
from Hartford. She had many things to spoil 
her pleasure as a child, for, although her path 
was smoothed as much as possible by loving 
hands, she was wild, wilful, and passionate; 
and when she could not have her own way, 
she was apt to assert herself, and things “ had 
to stand from under.” Sometimes a very little 
thing will make or mar a child’s pleasure, and 
a thing which seems of no consequence to a 
grown person, may rankle in a child’s mind 
for years; in consequence, we ought to be more 
careful than we many times are about what is 
said before children, for most of them have 
good memories, and they remember long after 
we have forgotten, and it hurts more keenly 
than it ever can a grown person. 

Sisero had a happy nature, and most of the 
time the world looked beautiful to her; but, 
however beautiful it may look, its aspect to 
each of us is modified by those who surround 
us. We may look at the glory of the sea, or 
the fairest fields or mountains, but if someone 
for whom we care has spoken a jarring word, 
the world is out of tune; we may waken in 
the morning, after a refreshing sleep, as happy 
15 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


as it is possible for mortal to be and come to 
a breakfast-table of gloomy faces, which damp- 
ens one’s brightness in the beginning and 
sometimes clouds the whole day. Pain cannot 
always be overcome so that one can look cheer- 
ful, but temper can. Gracious words and looks 
are worth more than some of us know or think. 
Let us cultivate cheerfulness as one of the great 
virtues. 

It made Sisero unhappy to even look at her 
grandmother, who was a very tall woman, thin 
as a rail, with limp hands. She always turned 
her cheek around for Sisero to kiss, and her 
cheek, not any harder than that of most 
old people, somehow made the child’s flesh- 
creep. The old lady always dressed in black 
— inky black, her iron-gray hair done in the 
severest knot on the back of her head, her voice 
and manner solemn in the extreme. 

Sisero was expected to spend a few hours of 
each week with her grandmother, and, sitting 
opposite her at the table, the supper, preceded 
by a melancholy grace and followed by sad 
family prayers, was perfectly tasteless. If she 
stayed overnight (as she did once in awhile), 
she was roused early in the morning by a 
first bell, soon followed by a second, and she 
knew there were more prayers in store for her. 

16 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


If she were a few minutes late, her grand- 
mother looked at her with solemnly reproach- 
ful eyes, as she waited, Bible in hand, the ser- 
vants and the rest of the family seated in very 
stiff chairs next the wall. Sisero’s good-morn- 
ing was returned in a solemn undertone; her 
grandmother then read a chapter in a voice 
of gloom, after which all knelt and she prayed 
to God to turn His wrath the other way, or 
words to that effect. Her prayer was long, and 
as interesting as such prayers generally, and 
it had the effect of making the child a little 
spunky and impatient “ to be up and doing.” 

Sisero was a creature of moods, and her 
mother knew every one and could accommodate 
herself to them, and not rub the fur the wrong 
way, a thing more than one of those who lived 
near her had a habit of doing. Her mother 
was perhaps the only one who thoroughly un- 
derstood her; she would say, “ Sisero is a little 
wilful and has a spirit of her own, but, with 
proper training, she will make a noble woman ; 
she has a tender heart, open as the day; but 
she dislikes to be caressed, unless by a person 
of whom she is very fond — which I consider 
a very good trait.” Her mother kissed her sel- 
dom, but would put her arm around her waist 
and look fondly into her eyes— and so they 
17 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


would sit and talk by the hour; they both 
loved music and adored books. While a child, 
Sisero had many tempestuous hours, but grew 
into a lovable, fascinating girl; if she liked any- 
one she was very gracious, but very distant if 
she did not. There was about her a slight in- 
describable touch of something which kept 
those beneath her from showing the smallest 
trace of familiarity. She was very sympathetic, 
and always took the part of those who were 
down; certain people were obliged to be ex- 
tremely civil to her; she was a slight, erect 
child, with a sensitive, delicate face, at' times 
pallid, but the slightest mental disturbance 
would make it flush vividly; her lips, as she 
grew older, had a look of repression about 
them. Her whole attitude was tense and watch- 
ful; if her glance was keen, it was never bold; 
not one look about her commonplace. Every 
gesture, every motion betokened the perfec- 
tion of mental health and physical vigor. 

It is hardly possible to believe that a child 
so full of life, so impetuous, so wilful, could be- 
long to such a calm, sedate, placid mother, 
unless the father was vastly different. A color- 
less little mother, who had all her brightness 
and individuality stamped out of her in one 
way or another — perhaps with too much re- 
18 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


pression in her bringing up — which she in her 
turn does not believe in crushing out of her 
child. 

The little mother, in her turn, had a thor- 
oughly good mother, but she was heartless in 
appearance, conscientious in all duties, strict in 
all ways — a good woman, but smiling rarely — 
weeping never. 

Sisero loved her mother devotedly, and after 
she was taken from her, this often thoughtless 
girl could look back on loving evenings and 
wonder with vain sighs of unavailing regret 
if life would ever again bring such sweetness. 
She had enjoyed the hours unthinkingly, for 
her time of wakening had not come; she found 
later that all connected with her life had its 
mirage. She enjoyed, or suffered, intensely; 
nothing was done calmly. She grew from a 
wilful, wayward child to a loving, impetuous, 
passionate woman, intense as it is possible for 
woman to be. Wherever she was she was like 
a fresh flower, and was one of those young 
people who diffuse life and attraction in a room. 

At times the dignity and grace of her bearing, 
the faint flush of her cheeks, the clearness of 
her skin, the exquisite modelling of her brill- 
iantly red and quiveringly sensitive lips, the 
wavy frame of golden hair around her face, 
19 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


contrasting strongly with her dark brows and 
lashes; her smile, always childlike but full of 
mischief, made her seem like a young queen, 
coming to claim an undisputed throne. 

From head to foot she was full of vitality and 
health, and glowed with the joy of living. 

As she grew older, she laid plans far ahead 
and was a firm believer in centring her forces, 
of which she had plenty. She planned to be 
rich, happy, and all good and wise things. She 
was not one who would be content with a part 
of anything if she thought she could have the 
whole, and while very young she vowed to her- 
self to get out of life everything it held. 

Her mother could see she was going to be 
a radiant creature and have a beauty few could 
resist, and feared for her; if her mind matched 
her face, no one need fear, but if she had more 
beauty than brains, with her impetuous dispo- 
sition, she might be a sad disappointment. 

Sisero learned early to believe that life is 
what we make it, and thought it should be 
beautiful from beginning to end ; so she deter- 
mined to make hers so. She realized that she 
was of a stronger nature than many of those 
around her, and knew that if she was to make 
a success in life she must do for herself some 
things never meant for her to do, and begin 


20 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


early to throw off whatever was not for her own 
good. 

She meant to carry an atmosphere of pleas- 
ure with her; one those about her could feel; 
to make her presence felt without speaking. 
She intended to secure her object, certainly, in 
whatever way seemed best, for, the way she 
looked at it, what was life for but to give her 
whatever she wished. 

Fate can be compelled. She would conquer 
things which to another, perhaps, might seem 
insurmountable. There was one thing she 
could not bring back, or have as she would 
have wished — her mother. She could see, in 
her mind’s eye, the charming room where they 
had passed so many hours, the atmosphere of 
exceeding homelikeness, flooded with light 
from the great windows which reached the floor 
and opened like a door; the ample, broad- 
backed chairs of a bygone generation, the 
book-cases with their crowded shelves, the old 
clock, with its familiar face. All the old things 
came back to her and brought the tears when 
she thought they could never return. 

It did not take long for her to learn her 
power over both men and women when she 
chose to exert it. 

She had the dangerous eyes and manner of 


21 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


a woman who must and will be loved or ad- 
mired at all hazards, and would never be satis- 
fied with anything but the best. 

She had one little trait of character to fight ; 
she could not help being distrait if she were not 
interested, and it was sometimes mortifying 
to her friends. 

She would not try to be all things to all 
women; it was not in her nature and was not 
easily cultivated. She had no patience with 
any half-way work, and she determined to swim 
even if some sank to the bottom. 

She believed if she was to have much or do 
much it must come through her own exertions; 
and if she lived to be a woman, the world 
should hold no woman who had attained any 
greater success who began life with the same 
gifts from God. 

She had many a fierce battle by herself, after 
her mother died, and after each shock she gath- 
ered her strength for fresh conquests, rose up 
defiantly against fate, and was pitiless of the 
pain some of it gave her spirit. 

She was secure in the confidence which the 
young have that they can attain to any lengths. 
We should never attain anything if our courage 
was as weak in the beginning as it is after the 
battle of life is almost fought. Sisero’s sunny 


22 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


temperament would do much for her in meet- 
ing and conquering life’s trials. 

Of what use was a passionate appreciation 
of all that was beautiful, an intoxicating de- 
light in life, the most perfect vitality and health, 
if not to surmount obstacles? 

Her mother, who was so tender of her little 
girl, so sympathetic in her childish sorrows, had 
gone; she must stand on her own feet. 

Not being of a particularly trustful nature, 
for awhile after her mother’s death she seemed 
unable to turn to anyone for comfort and sym- 
pathy. For a long time there was a something 
lacking. She herself must supply it. 

She would not be a mourner, a dreamer of 
bad dreams. She was alive to her fingers’ tips 
and ardent in all life’s joys. At times she be- 
stowed endearments (which she should not) on 
many a little animal — called “boys”; again, 
she was especially disdainful, ignoring the same 
ones in an exasperating way. There is no 
knowing what those little loves of hers might 
have become if allowed to hang on the tree long 
enough to ripen ; how thankful we ought to be 
that they fall early — too early to do harm — for 
they are as different from real love as water is 
from wine. 

A look often came over her face as she got 


23 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


older which comes to every proud creature 
disappointed in her ideals. 

With some of us the world ends just where 
it began ; with others the horizon widens each 
year, bringing new knowledge and new inter- 
ests. 

To some lives not one thrill ever comes; 
other lives are one continued thrill in the joy 
of living and doing; to them all days are charm- 
ing spring days, full of hazy sunlight — one long 
dream. 

To some the sound of the rain-drops is music ; 
to others the rain against the windows makes 
a querulous, fretful sound; everything is black, 
damp, darkness; nothing is ever right. 

The expression on some faces is brightening 
and charming; on others the patiently impa- 
tient expression of being martyrs trod upon by 
the world ; as we look at them do we not wish 
they would say what they have to say and have 
done with it, not sulk? Let them explode in a 
volcano of abuse and get over it, so we may 
know what to expect; let us have the storm, 
so there may come sunshine. 

Is not a sulky temper the protege of the worst 
possible trait of character? It is not always 
by the worst bursts of temper that souls are 
wrecked, but by a continual brooding over real 
24 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


or imaginary wrongs. We have heard that 
“ what is easily attained is not valued.” 

Sisero knew she would never be a half-awake 
woman, never feel bemused with sleep, for she 
was seldom sleepy, even as a child. She hoped 
never to have a hazy understanding of right 
and wrong. She knew this was a busy world 
and there were busy people in it, and she was 
anxious to be one of them. Some lives are long 
roads and strange ones. Sisero never had an 
intimate girl friend, for she found no one with 
whom she had aught in common. 


25 


II. 

L ET us not wander longer by the way, but 
return for a few pages to her child- 
Ji hood. She was too bright and talka- 
tive a child to pass it all by; her 
young life was all anticipation, and if we do 
not reach the reminiscences, we will go with 
her through a few years of such joy and tri- 
umph and sorrow as only an intense nature 
can feel; if she could have made her choice 
of a life she might have decided on a very dif- 
ferent one from that which was hers, but, like 
many others, she did her best with her life as 
it came to her. Her trials may sweeten eter- 
nity for her; her life, according to my belief, 
was foreordained for her, and she took her 
pound of sorrow with every pound of joy, like 
the rest of the world. 

This little story will not be a set of drawing- 
room dialogues, or her conversation with dif- 
ferent people, but a few of her clouds, a pile of 
sunshine, a few of her idiosyncracies, and some 
26 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of her ways, which were so different from those 
of most children. She, with her inflammable, 
insatiable temperament and vivid imagination, 
was likely to make herself more trouble than 
one who never dreamed the absurd things 
which such a temperament does. 

I do not care for the conversation between 
a child and a grown person, or those about 
children, oldsters and youngsters, and I have 
racked my brain to vary my formula, as this 
is not simply a child’s book. My idea of child- 
life is quite different since I knew this child. 
I have often told her story, but never written it. 
It was brought to my mind by what I call an 
unhappy ending, although her life is not ended, 
as we look at it. I am not going to preach a 
sermon or point a moral, but write what I know 
to be facts, hoping to interest a few, as -written 
words have more force and last longer than 
those which are spoken. I know this child 
came to earth in a sleepy little New England 
town, in the coldest month of winter. I would 
have liked to write my story with the pen of 
those days, borrowed from the tail of a live 
goose, who would not have minded it, I pre- 
sume, if she could have realized that what it 
wrote might be well received. Our child was 
fond of solitude. To be alone was what she 


27 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


liked — “ a happy lonesome,” as her grand- 
mother used to say. She was gay alone, sad 
alone, full of ideas alone, and angry alone; in 
the woods, in nests of moss, hundreds of voices 
talked to her; alone with the stars at night, she 
prayed her little prayers, asked for the most 
absurd things; not getting them at first, had 
faith to try again; thinking perhaps she must 
have the usual “ two or three gathered to- 
gether ” in order that her prayer might be an- 
swered, took her dog and doll, and then some- 
times she had to wait quite a while for the 
answer, if it ever came. Prayer seemed to her 
the one mode of asking for all she wanted, and 
what did she not ask for? Chiefly that her hair 
should curl; her hair was very lovely, with just 
enough curl to hang around her face in a pretty 
frame, but ringlets were what she wanted. She 
had tried eating brown bread, as she had been 
advised, but it had not been a success, so she 
returned to prayer. She prayed to be deliv- 
ered from naming her children (although her 
prayer may have been a little previous), some 
of the names she heard every day, for to her 
artistic sense some of them did not seem ap- 
propriate to the people who had them. She 
had an Aunt Grace, whom she described as 
“the tallest, leanest, lankiest, most wrinkled 
28 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of women, with no freckles only because she 
was too old for them, but not too old or too 
young for a mustache,” and the last-named 
article had such a horrible look to Sisero that 
she could not help feeling that all this ugli- 
ness covered a multitude of sins. She had 
one more aunt, Aurora (what a name!), who 
never spoke of her past, apparently having no 
pleasant remembrances of it. She may have 
been one of those unfortunate females in her 
youth, if she ever had any youth; we can 
hardly believe some women of fifty and up- 
ward ever were children, so blasted do they 
look in all their branches, thin May-poles, or 
bare hop-poles with the leaves all stripped; they 
may have had summer verdure once, but we 
find it hard to believe. Every time Sisero 
thought of her Aunt Aurora, I am afraid her 
little nose looked just a common turn-up in- 
stead of retrousse, as it had been called. She 
could not help thinking that, if God made this 
aunt, He must be doing better work now, for 
she was old enough to make comparisons. 

Faith moves mountains, it is said, and Sisero 
believed it, but for all she had more faith than 
anything else, not one of her prayers was ever 
answered; she was very sanguine for years, 
and never failed to ask for everything she 
29 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


wanted — racked her brains for new words, new 
ways of expressing herself, for a variety; but, 
no; no matter what she asked for, not one 
thing did she ever get in direct answer to her 
prayer. In the cold winter nights, when it was 
too cold to stop to pray before getting into bed, 
she would crawl into bed and then say her 
prayer, but, being more or less a Vestal Virgin, 
would with her wakefulness think of any quan- 
tity of things she wanted; and knowing (she 
thought she knew) that no prayer was ever 
answered which was said in bed, would get 
out and religiously go over it all again, with 
the faith which lasted years. Many a night 
has she gotten out and said her prayer a little 
more carefully when she thought to herself she 
had been rather careless at first. How cold 
those old houses were in winter with only a 
stove or fireplace to warm the rooms in the 
daytime, and no fire at night. Outside the 
moon has risen over the great stretch of white- 
ness, making long lines of silver light. The 
branches of the distant pine-trees are fringed 
with down and crystal. The hours are beauti- 
fully long on such a night; to one who enjoys 
such a scene the beauty is to be felt, it is so 
still; there is not the least sign of life. In the 
country there are little specks of green not 
30 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


killed by the frost, just a little of the “ color 
of hope ” ; is there a cleaner, more beautiful 
sight on earth? The snow makes fairy-like trees, 
everything gleams — the fir-trees with the froz- 
en rain, the branches hanging pendant with 
the weight of the icicle — the indescribably 
beautiful effect, like great white ostrich plumes, 
so soft and so feathery. The night closes in, the 
moon shines in all her splendor upon the scene. 
Walk at dusk through one of those wooded 
roads, the pines and other trees interlaced over 
our heads; with tassels of snow and ice, a mys- 
terious silence pervades the very atmosphere 
we breathe. The squirrel darts over our snowy 
path, which glitters and sparkles like millions 
of diamonds strewn in the road and clinging 
to the sombre foliage of the forest like gems 
of the purest water. What beauty! What 
loveliness! Can we half describe it? A bright 
sunset can cover and illuminate the whole land- 
scape with a flood of crimson light. 

I think excessive cold freezes a sluggish 
blood, and that person proceeds to make him- 
self as miserable as possible; not so our little 
heroine; the cold, the snow, and the ice only 
made her the more wild, and her spirit rose 
higher and higher with every nip of the frost. 

She prayed just the same for princes and 
31 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


paupers. Her prince was to be so handsome 
that no description she had ever read satisfied 
her idea of how he ought to look. Her idea 
of his beauty was very extravagant, and also 
of how she was to meet or find him. She never 
took a walk but she more than half-expected 
to meet him or to find diamonds or jewels in 
her path; she thought every hedge must con- 
ceal something for her. She was rather extrav- 
agant and absurd in her ideas. The time came 
when she began to realize that not one of her 
prayers was being answered, and because she 
had believed so faithfully the disillusion was 
the more severe, and little by little anger and 
resentment took the place of faith in her tender 
little heart. Had she not prayed with all her 
heart, tried to have “ two or three gathered 
together”? in her closet? looking up at the 
sky? on her knees? Had she not tried all ways 
and manner of prayer with no result except 
to lose her faith? What could it mean? She 
would try and find out. 

Now one of her greatest amusements had 
been to go to an old crone, who lived in a 
little old hut in a wood near her home. Sisero 
had tried all kinds of charms, such, for instance, 
as telling her fortune with a daisy, and every- 
thing else she could think of, for she was still 


32 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


quite a child in such matters. So she dressed 
herself in a long cloak, high boots, which she 
always wore in winter, and started for Mother 
Lucian’s. 

It is not far, and the snow is well trodden 
on the path that leads to the door — as in sum- 
mer the grass is well worn. 

She knocks gently and peeks in at the little 
window at the same time. A saucepan or two 
are on the stove, which smell, even through 
the door, so strongly as to make Sisero turn 
up that little nose again as she has such a habit 
of doing; the door is not long in opening, and 
when it does it causes a little shiver to run down 
the child’s back. She has such faith in the old 
crone. Mother Lucian thinks she can see what 
it is that is troubling Sisero; she does not speak, 
but seats herself again — if that is what we can 
call it; low crouching over the fire in that mys- 
terious way and looking in the saucepan every 
now and then. This woman is supposed to have 
a potation for anything anyone wants — a cure- 
all. 

Everyone in the country around has confi- 
dence in her, no matter what they may have 
said to the contrary. At first Sisero is a little 
afraid, then resolves to put on a bold face and 
throws off her cloak. The old woman during 


33 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


this time brushes up the hearth and peeps into 
the mess over the fire. She listens attentively 
while Sisero tells her of the doubts and diffi- 
culties, of her unanswered prayers. 

Has Mother Lucian ever had come to her 
so young or foolish a little girl? I hope the 
small portion of bitter stuff which she made the 
child drink was nothing worse than boneset 
tea. No matter what it was, the child had 
faith to think it would do what prayer had not 
done. She may be the first child who has played 
with the mysterious ; but many an older person 
has tried his luck, with just as much faith, and, 
I presume, with like results. 

It is fascinating to ask if we are to be more 
favored than our friends. We are all tainted 
with selfishness. We never hesitate to cross 
the hand of such a one, even if we are short of 
money for needful things. 

Old Mother Lucian gave Sisero one good 
bit of advice, at any rate; she told her “ not to 
bother her pretty young head about things 
much too old for her, but to go home and play 
with her dolls and her brother.” Now Sisero 
was fully conscious that she could not play 
with both at the same time, for this brother of 
hers, who would not play dolls, and who made 
fun of her when she did, would be sure to break 


34 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


her best one. She had never forgiven him a 
nasty trick he did to one of them — a cloth-face 
one. They were in the old-fashioned kitchen 
at home; and there was a platter of ham on 
the stove; her brother threw her doll into the 
air and it came down into the platter, and all 
the consolation Sisero got from him was 
that it was only necessary to put one more 
letter in the doll’s name, which was Grace. 
That little nose went up higher than ever, and 
then her brother told her “ there was one ad- 
vantage in having a nose like hers, it was easy 
to keep clean.” 

Sisero and this brother had many battles. 
His hair was very black, so different from his 
sister’s. His hands, though brown and show- 
ing the effects of the weather, were delicately 
formed, and beneath the smooth skin could 
be seen the play of steel-like muscles; his eyes 
were strikingly black, and alight with power 
and passion; his nature seemed fitted to com- 
mand, and if the brother and sister had a dis- 
pute, she was the one to give in. The two 
strong wills often clashed, and after one of 
their storms the atmosphere was frosty for 
hours, while both swore vengeance and that 
they would never speak to each other again. 
The boy would always smile at the sister’s 
35 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


vehemence if she, for some offence, were pun- 
ished by being obliged to sit a certain length 
of time and read aloud to one of her aunts, or 
to have her aunt say, “ Here, child, hold this 
yarn while I wind ; ” then the poor child would 
reach out her hands for the skein of yarn, 
which was neither small nor fine, and the wool- 
ly feeling on her wrists could only be overcome 
by an exaggerated scamper over the hills. Sis- 
ero was continually being told to do things 
for her aunt, “ because you are younger than 
I.” This particular mode of address irritated 
her and created wildness of spirit within and 
malcontent without. 

There were one or two things of which Sis- 
ero had plenty while she was young — church 
and Sunday-school. Sunday began at six 
o’clock on Saturday evening; all work was 
done by that time, and she was only too thank- 
ful if she did not have to go to the Saturday 
evening prayer-meeting, as she often did, with 
her father. 

The rising smoke could be seen on Sunday 
morning the same as on weekdays, but there 
was no noise of any kind; not a living thing 
to mar the stillness while they went to and 
from church ; no milk bells, no crowing of the 
rooster or cackle of his companions; and if 
36 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


either of them happened to do so, it sounded 
unusually loud and, in a way, bold and sacri- 
legious; no Sunday paper, no pleasure rides, 
and no riding to church if within walking dis- 
tance. 

The men looked melancholy, solemn, grim, 
and resolute; the women sweet-souled and 
pious, many with traces of hard work on their 
faces. If Sisero ever looked pitiful, it must 
have been on one of those Sundays in church, 
when she tried to sit still and hear patiently the 
1 words of the preacher — all much too old for 
one of her years; a few of them she distinctly 
remembered, to my certain knowledge, and 
these were, “ everlasting damnation, hell fire, 
brimstone, etc.” 

She was at times so mixed up over the 
straight and narrow road, that if she saw one 
particularly narrow it in a way depressed her, 
and she had a feeling as though she ought 
to turn back. What a way that was of teach- 
ing a child to be good! It is a wonder to me 
that we have so few insane, for the stuff of that 
kind which years ago was dinned into ears 
much too weak or too young certainly could 
not cure nervousness, if one were at all inclined 
that way. Certainly that kind of thing must be 
a forerunner of bad results. If the child could 


37 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


have been allowed to take her book to church, 
she need not have had her little head filled so 
full of a something which did her no good and 
no little harm, and after one of those Sundays, 
so filled with dire forebodings, she could not 
help “ seeing things at night,” and many a 
headache has resulted from one of those long 
Sundays. A rather simple woman said to an- 
other, who complained of headache after one 
of those sermons, she “ could not see why she 
went to church to get a headache.” Now no 
one went on purpose to get one, but got it just 
the same. 

This child would, with her nervous imagina- 
tion, have been much better off at home, rock- 
ing, reading, and watching the fire to see 
whether the two ends of a stick would finally 
drop outside the andirons, or pitch forward into 
the bed of glowing coals; how many hours she 
sat thus, all her young life, to dream, weave 
fancies, and see visions; here she thought out 
all her schemes. Part of her life was a poem 
to her, to be read many times. She wasted no 
affection on her girl friends, her dog was her 
faithful and true friend; to him she would say 
things not safe for other ears. 

What a lot of nervous energy a clinging nat- 
ure sometimes wastes on a teacher or girl 
38 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


friend ; if only a check could be put upon some 
of this hysterical excess and keep such a nature 
cool and steady it would be better. We have 
all seen a child-woman, or woman-child, who 
is made a fool of every time one of the opposite 
sex comes into her presence. The exhausting 
devotion girls have for their woman teachers 
in a way uses up some fibre of the finest part 
of their nature ; not so with our little flax head. 
She was daring and demure, sad, serious, and 
saucy by turns, at times white and scared as 
a rabbit, she wasted little affection on anything 
but her dog; he it was who roamed the country 
with her, down the country roads where the 
trees arched over, or by the river sparkling in 
the sun, her nature as free and expansive as 
the landscape before her eyes. On a pleasant 
day the atmosphere, as she ran, seemed to vi- 
brate with happiness. It was impossible not 
to be fascinated with this gay, natural child, 
fearless of storm or sunshine, always a child, 
sometimes a woman. 

Her studies never troubled her very much. 
She found out early that she could learn noth- 
ing by the method used in the school where she 
was obliged to go ; the sing-song of it all, the 
humdrum did not satisfy her; she must look 
into things for herself ; and everything had to 
39 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


be explained in quite a different manner from 
the one generally used before she was satisfied. 

She often sang as she ran, and the words 
which fitted her tunes were quite different from 
the ones intended for them; she had been used 
to singing in Sunday-school “ a consecrated 
cross I bear”; it ran, in her head, “a conse- 
crated cross-eyed bear,” which soon had to be 
explained away. Many were the mistakes of 
this kind that she made. 

Her flaxen head shone in the sunlight as she 
sat perched on the top of a step-ladder, burrow- 
ing eagerly into the contents of the volumes 
in the old library; she devoured volumes of 
Scott, Dickens, Thackeray, and others too nu- 
merous to mention, while a tall child with a 
great stretch of stockinged legs and a decided 
scarcity of skirts. Some of the books were, no 
doubt, too old for her, but it never seemed to 
do her any harm. The bad in what she saw 
or read fell away, the good clung, and she grew 
up an innocent, unsophisticated girl. She may 
to some have had symptoms of wildness, but it 
got no further; whatever germ of anything 
that was bad she came across, she was able to 
digest it — it did her no harm. 

Her child-life was full and happy; she bor- 
rowed no trouble; her mantle of care had not 


40 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


yet touched her. It was many years that she 
was happy, for, after her mother was taken 
from her, a sister of her mother took her in 
charge, and the two were not parted for years. 
At the time her aunt came into her life she was 
fresh, naive, perfectly free and untrammelled. 
She had lived an isolated country life, but had 
none of that gaucherie of manner which so often 
is a part of an isolated life; none of that gene 
which is so painful to a city-bred woman, such 
as her aunt. She liked to look at this innocent 
girl, and had no idea of curbing her light and 
graceful way, for she knew this was one of Sis- 
ero’s chief charms. 

Her aunt did not try to force her confidence; 
she did not think it a good thing to be always 
reposing confidence in someone, and would say 
to her, “We have not grown very near to- 
gether, and we are sometimes very silent, but 
silence is golden where speech is silvern. You 
are of a strong nature, and the more you rely 
on yourself the stronger you will grow. 

“ When you want advice or sympathy, come 
to me, for my heart is full of it for you ; do not, 
however, make the mistake of relying on your 
own judgment when you are not sure which 
is right or which is wrong, or you may live to 
wonder how you could have been so foolish. 
41 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ I want you to love me, child, but you need 
tell me of it only when you feel like it. ‘ They 
love not much who tell too much their love.' 
Your nature is strong enough to make a brave, 
good woman. 

“ Do not be too reticent, for, although reti- 
cence may be classed one of the many virtues, 
there is no more disagreeable person than one 
who shuts up like a clam over things which 
it will do no harm to tell and which may amuse 
someone or make someone happy. Have few 
secrets — the fewer the better — then one does 
not always have to stop to think three times 
before speaking once. Let us not weigh things 
too much, for there is such a thing as sifting 
until there is little left but chaff. Dear heart, 
dear child, be natural ; have no malice in your 
heart and there will be no sifting to do; be kind. 

“ If, as friends gather about the hearth-stone 
in the chill twilight, one and all talk freely, let 
us try not to cool off by daylight, so the little 
things we have talked of and laughed at in the 
firelight will look so differently that we must 
tell others in an entirely different spirit. Try 
and keep truth on your side, no malevolence, 
for malevolence in its passive form is the guid- 
ing force of some natures ; they are possessed 
by a stern impatience of whatever is opposed 


42 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


to them; it is as if they exist in a state of in- 
ward wrath, and through the veil of decent self- 
repression shoot spasmodic gleams of bitter- 
ness and injustice, that are the natural outcome 
of disappointed pride. 

“ If we are fine by nature, we need little pol- 
ishing, for sterling is sterling the world over; 
but the plated one must be polished carefully, 
for the basis is brass. It is drudgery to try to 
set ourselves right; if we have been misunder- 
stood, let it go, unless by our conduct and by 
our kind hearts we can show we meant no 
harm; then our friends and people in general 
gradually get to know we are true; and we are 
not all through life having a ‘ post-mortem ’ to 
set ourselves right in eyes which really are of 
no consequence to us. 

“ Be kind of heart and the best results fol- 
low, for one of that kind never speaks his mind 
in too free a way for the sake of venting his 
ill-nature. Do not live continually in a self- 
sacrificing state, you gain nothing by it; no 
one will think any better of you — or as well. 
Never be selfish or piggish; if you have no 
selfish thought there will be no need of any 
sacrifice; healthy minds demand that all suf- 
fering shall have a purpose; all pain, whether 
of body or mind, a use. 

43 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ Do any of us like to meet the person who 
goes through life making a martyr of himself, 
making such a point of all his virtues and sacri- 
fices that it makes us think it may not be real; 
or we are made to feel that we are in some way 
to blame, and that we have made life a burden 
to him; we can never speak in a natural voice 



him, such an influence does he have 


over u\ so depressing; do we not wish he 
would speak his mind and have done with it, 
and so clear the atmosphere? 

“ Let us get as far as possible from that kind 
of people. We are not called upon to be mar- 
tyrs in this world. Let those who take that 
stand go alone; they like it, or seem to, by 
the look we see on their faces; let the rest of 
us be happy, free, and untrammelled by sad 
thought; when we must look sad, let us get 
off to one side, not parade our grief to attract 
attention. 

“ Let us study those whom we meet just long 
enough to find out if we are going to be con- 
genial, agreeable to each other, pick out those 
who are, and let the others severely alone; one 
of the greatest mistakes in this world is prob- 
ably made in trying to like everyone, trying 
to be close friends with all. 

“ We are not called upon to take everyone 


44 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


into our homes or hearts, their people to be our 
people, their views to be our views. 

“We must be one by ourselves; be indepen- 
dent, not the independence born of ill-nature, 
bad temper, hatefulness of soul, and the like, 
but the independence which sees no wrong in 
anyone; the independence of a kind heart and 
nature, which means no wrong — therefore does 
no wrong. 

“ Let us do no sin, think no sin, believe no sin 
— as long as it in no way concerns us, for there 
is nothing in this world so deceptive as sin; 
outside it is like a summer day; inside, as black 
as hell. 

“ As long as we cannot make over the world 
or its people let us, each and all who can, be 
content and happy with our own lot; let others 
go and do as they think best. 

“ My child, you must face a world of strong 
loves and hates ; and all you need do is to pick 
out what concerns you and leave the rest. 

“ You will meet truthful people and those 
who are not; those who lie from cowardice, 
perhaps, not to be malicious; those who lie 
because a lie seems better at the time than the 
truth, or at least the whole truth; those who 
lie because they have not strength of character 
to tell the truth, even if the truth seems better 


45 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


at the time; one of those dancing, dawdling 
creatures, neither one thing nor the other; not 
a good imitation of anything — at least they 
seem a poor imitation of anything in the heav- 
ens above, in the earth beneath, or in the waters 
under the earth. 

“We must pick out people with character 
enough to be either wicked or good, no half- 
way; then we know what to depend upon. 

“ Let all be real; something real wicked or 
real good — not imitation, no half-and-half. We 
need not parade anything; if well-bred, the 
well-bred will recognize it — we need not care 
for those who are not. 

“ Men or women who are right religiously, 
morally, uprightly, have no cause to make 
themselves over; husbands, wives, friends, or 
acquaintances need not make and unmake 
themselves if they are right in the beginning. 

“ Never forget, child, that you have a name to 
uphold. We often hear the expression ‘ What’s 
in a name? ’ To some there may not be any- 
thing, but to me there is a great deal. I hold 
that you can do more with some names than 
with others; for instance, Flannigan, Flarity, 
or Fay; MacMahon, Murphy, or Moriarty, 
sound quite different to my ears from Kings- 
bury, Kingsley, or Kimball; Tracy, Transom, 
46 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


or Templeton. Now, do not misunderstand me, 
dear, one can do wrong who has any of them; 
but such names as Kingsbury and the few oth- 
ers I have mentioned look better written, sound 
better spoken than some others. Of course, 
we associate certain things with certain names 
in our minds. 

“ With your birth and breeding there will be 
no excuse for you to go wrong; with the teach- 
ing I mean to give you until it is time for you 
to enter Miss Porter’s school at Farmington, 
Ct., and with the travelling you may do with 
me afterward, you should turn out a lady from 
the crown of your head to the tips of you toes. 
You have, to begin with, a strong and healthy 
body, a face seldom met with for winsomeness 
and fascination; you have no excuse for a mis- 
take, you have nothing to contend with. 

“ We meet people in this world who look like 
animals once removed; we meet people who 
are physically strong, who we know are mor- 
ally weak — a little shady; we must not be 
either hasty or severe in our judgment ; let us 
be charitable and condemn not. Hasty we 
sometimes are when we ought not to judge 
at all. ‘ Be kind to your friends, not very fierce 
with your foes.’ ” 


47 




THE BLUE DAYS 








III. 

“ The fatal remembrance, 

The sorrow that throws 
Its black shade alike 
O’er our joys and our woes.” 

A S Sisero got older she often wondered 

/-% how it was that her aunt had no 

JL family of her own, and was unselfish 

enough to give up all her time to 
her; and one day asked her to tell her why 
she was sometimes so sad, so happy at others. 
Her aunt said: 

“ You are now quite old enough to know my 
life; come, sit by our old friend, the log-fire, 
and while we look into its face, feel the de- 
liciousness of the warmth, and know we are 
safe from the blinding snow-storm which is 
raging outside, I will open my heart and tell 
you of its wounds. 

“ As we look at the blaze, hear the crackling 
and flaming, I will take you into an unknown 
atmosphere, and I hope to give you such a 
lesson I could do in no other way. 

5i 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ When you were born that cold winter’s 
day, I promised your mother you should never 
know a sorrow which I could avert. 

“ I do not speak of my life to everyone; it 
would not interest everyone. I hope to interest 
you, although you are still too young to be in 
sympathy with it all, as an older person might. 
It may be better not to tell you; for the less 
we know the less we beat against the bars of 
our cage. 

“ I have had hours when I would have been 
glad to die — I am glad now I did not. 

“ I feel as if I still have a part to play — and 
I shall try and steer your bark clear of some 
of the shoals which wrecked years of my life. 
You will pardon any little lapsus memories — 
there will be all left that you ought to know. 

“ In this world there is a deal of fencing with 
lightsome love ; and love, that is not lightsome, 
but strong as death, smiles behind the flowers 
and waits for the opportune time. 

“ Some of us must eat many of the bitter 
apples which hang from the tree of knowledge 
before we are satisfied. 

“ No one can understand Heavenly love who 
closes the heart to earthly affection. 

“ How few of us have ever seen the specks 
of light which swim and sparkle in the depth 
52 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of a soft eye, aglow with love, like the gold of 
a yellow liquor. 

“ Happy age, while love is an unsubstantial, 
rosy dream. For a few years I had lovers by 
the score; those who were willing to serve 
seven years or twice seven if necessary; but 
at last I found I had only been playing at love. 

“ I entered within the veil of the temple and 
issued with my face shining. I found I had 
been absolutely heart-whole until the night 
when I met the one who was afterward my hus- 
band. 

“ The upheaval of every fixed idea of how 
such a meeting should take place, the revolu- 
tion which soon shook my nature to a depth 
I had not dreamed ; my first earnest, passionate 
love. 

“ Ours was one of those meetings of which 
we read; we did not have to wait months to 
find out if we were in love. 

“ We met at a magnificent ball. The night 
was glorious, the moon and stars looked down 
on a vast illuminated ball-room and great gar- 
dens where fountains played in summer and 
the snow made beauty in winter. Here music 
swelled and died and flowers filled the air with 
sweet perfume. 

“ All were smiling and palpitating with pleas- 


53 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


ure; I wanted nothing but to look into a pair 
of eyes the glance of which until this evening 
I had not seen. 

“ The face has often been spoken of as an 
index of the mind. There are people who think 
they know a man by the height of his fore- 
head, by the shape of his head, by the expres- 
sion of his countenance; whether this rule is 
true I shall not attempt to say. 

“ I only know that I looked into calm, vel- 
vety eyes, which to me had an expression of 
love. 

“ There was one pair of eyes for me, and only 
one; and they looked from a speaking face — 
looked from a keen mental vision, and pierced 
down into the depths of an earnest, loving 
soul. 

“ It was not a difficult matter to make a fond, 
loving girl his slave; hence my story becomes 
one of the saddest that can be told in this life. 

“ Wyndham, my lover, was liked wherever 
he went; he was clever enough to win distinc- 
tion, but too much of a ‘ hail fellow well met ’; 
he was one of the many who fail, or fall, 
through not being able to say no. 

“ Some faces have neither vice nor morals, 
not being strong enough for either. 

“ The home of my friend, where I first met 


54 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


my lover, was full of all the accompaniments of 
wealth ; it was richly and splendidly furnished, 
the drawing-rooms spacious, all other rooms 
large; here was where I spent many happy 
days. She was the only close friend I have ever 
had. 

“ I well remember the night; I wore a soft 
white gown, no ornaments, my bright, wavy 
hair of golden bronze piled high for the first 
time. 

“ It was my first ball, and everything was 
new to me and cannot be explained to one who 
has not tried it. There's a something in our 
first ball, our first love — in fact, first anything 
— so different from all others. God knows 
how we feel, what it means to us; He knows 
what is best for us; but do we think we al- 
ways get it? 

“ It is one of the sorrows of the world that 
we often make the least use of the blessings 
close at hand. 

“ My lover was one who always said the cor- 
rect thing — a very fascinating man. 

“ He kept people around him in an uproar 
by his laughable and witty sayings; his high 
spirits made him a universal favorite. 

“ Our first evening was a light and airy love, 
which was to ripen into serious and appalling 
55 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


results. He knew how to humor all my little 
failings, how to be kind to small foibles, how 
to flatter my weaknesses. 

“ I found afterward he did not trouble him- 
self over anyone falling in love with him, 
whether he returned it or not. 

“ W e were engaged for nearly a year before 
we were married, for I was still too young to 
marry; no happier pair rode or drove in the 
park or over the country than we. 

“ My wedding-day came at last, and I was 
accompanied to the altar by no less than six 
bridesmaids ; it was a grand wedding, an event 
in my life which I shall never forget. I think 
it was my happiest day, with no cloud to mar 
our happiness. My husband certainly was the 
handsomest bridegroom I had ever seen. 

“ I was loved as I supposed no woman was 
ever loved before. I considered myself blessed 
among women. 

“ We began our married life in a home of 
our own. I was really an excellent house- 
keeper, though no one expected it of me. 

“ I was so young and had been so fond of 
society, such a butterfly, no one looked for se- 
rious work. My friends, old and young, 
who knew me intimately, considered the idea 
of settling this remarkably ignorant young 
56 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


person down to housekeeping, and all that the 
word means, as a good joke. 

“ I did not regard it as a joke at all, and from 
an innocent, ignorant little creature, free as air, 
I became a thoroughly good housekeeper. I 
hardly knew the word poverty, had had little 
experience with money, but nature had taught 
me not to be wasteful. 

“ My table was always well set, my home all 
through full of sunshine and order. I had been 
taught that ‘ order is one of the first laws of 
heaven/ and our home was heaven to me — for 
a few months; when I brought my accounts 
to my husband at the end of the first month 
of housekeeping he looked at me with admira- 
tion and said : ‘ I have been mistaken in you 
after all, Ruth, you are going to make a model 
housekeeper/ 

“ I led a busy life, and it was all I had ever 
anticipated and more. Any little hitch in the 
machinery soon passed off; I had no inclina- 
tion to fret or rebel at anything. 

“ All went well with me until a certain day, 
after less than a year of married life; I arose 
as usual on the morning of this day and had 
breakfast alone, as my husband was out of town 
on one of his many trips. 

“ I attended to my little domestic matters, 
57 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


dusted my few rooms, arranged some fresh 
flowers in the vases, and, looking at my watch, 
saw I had just time to reach the station and 
meet my husband if he came in on the usual 
train. 

“ I thought to myself what a surprise I could 
give him; he did not like me to go to the sta- 
tion, but I did not think he would mind, for 
once. I felt inclined to risk it, at any rate; he 
had only been gone a day or two, but I had been 
unaccountably lonely this time, and had a bad 
dream about him which made me very uneasy. 

“ I waited for the train with eager eyes, and 
at last it pulled into the station. Not many 
seconds and my husband’s familiar form ap- 
peared at the car-door, and presently a beauti- 
ful girl appeared beside him. 

“ I did not for one moment think they were 
together, until she drew nearer and touched his 
arm with her hand — such a clinging touch. 

“ She might have stepped out of a frame, so 
beautiful she looked to me; white and amber- 
tinted, with true auburn-gold hair crisped at 
the temples, making a glory about her face and 
head as the sun caught the golden tendrils. 
Suddenly my husband’s eyes met mine as I 
gazed up at him ; he turned sharply, and push- 
ing the girl from him, seemed surprised and 
53 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


angry to see me. I was puzzled by his manner, 
but could not for a moment believe he was 
really angry; or, if he was, it must be because 
he did not like me to come to the station alone. 
He said to me, ‘ Is there anything wrong, 
Ruth? ’ I told him, no, I only wanted to meet 
him — that was all. He acted nervously and ill- 
at-ease ; seemed to make an effort to throw off 
what was troubling him, and, turning, after 
what was to me a long time, he introduced ‘ his 
Cousin Anna, who had come home with him 
to make us a little visit/ 

“ I was delighted to have a companion. She 
was always in excellent spirits, and we enjoyed 
going about together. We had adventures and 
many wild frolics. Sometimes my husband 
went with us, but oftener we went alone. We 
were both fond of the theatre; it was one of 
our greatest pleasures. 

“ The girl’s beauty was very marked, and 
many eyes were turned in her direction every 
time she appeared. She was very regal, very 
quiet and dignified in manner, her features clas- 
sical and pure in outline; her head, with its 
wealth of golden hair, was splendidly set. 

“ I often noticed a suppressed excitement, 
a triumph in my husband’s manner, and was 
fool enough to think I was the cause of all the 
59 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


admiration in his eyes. When I would come 
into his presence in pure white, he would put 
his arms around me, draw me close to him, 
and kiss me almost fiercely; was it because he 
was struck by the innocent look in my eyes, 
or shame that one who should have been all 
in all to me was drifting farther and farther 
away every day? 

“ It may be unromantic and unconventional 
to confess the truth; but I believe it is a fact 
of human nature that when the feelings are very 
much roused and the proper person to make 
love to is not by, there is a considerable temp- 
tation to transfer the love to the first eligible 
recipient one happens to fall in with. The time 
came when I shrank from the caresses of the 
one I had idolized. 

“ He was innately unselfish and, as time went 
on, must have been sorry for me if he stopped 
to think what a wreck he was making of my 
life; but all are not so constituted that they 
do stop to think. 

“ Souls that in the end often attain the high- 
est have nearly suffered shipwreck many times. 
There are those who sin deeply; temptation 
assails them in the most subtle form; many 
cannot say no, and go down really into the 
depths and die, never in this life to be heard 
60 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of again — are utterly lost through their weak- 
ness or inability to say ‘ No.’ 

“ It may be that these so-called lost souls 
will appear as victors in another world, or, the 
next time they appear on earth, having had 
their punishment in one state, need it not in 
another. 

“ There are those who concern themselves 
very much with the mysteries of life; do they 
see into it any better than the rest of us, after 
all their studying? 

“ I believe the world is kindest to those who 
expect of it all good things; I believe the world, 
or the people in it, are disposed to give what- 
ever is expected of it, or them. 

“ Faith may not move mountains, but it will 
do a great deal. 

“ For awhile my husband had that noisily 
cheerful way which generally characterizes the 
young husband doing the honors of his own 
house the first year. He would touch my hair 
tenderly and his voice would shake as he called 
me darling; but by the way he looked, and the 
way he would turn away, I knew he was not 
quite happy; I would follow him, and putting 
my hands on his shoulders, look into his face 
and say, ‘ What is it? I seem to be loved by 
my husband, and I love him — still he is not 
61 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


happy. What is it we have not in our lives? 
We have been so happy. You have had a 
gay face and manner — you grow thin, you look 
away from me, you talk in your sleep — what 
is wrong? I have done my best in loving you 
— have tried to make you happy/ At one time 
he turned white, sank into the nearest chair, 
and burst into tears; what to think I did not 
know. He turned to me at last and said: 

“ ‘ Ruth, I want you to promise me one 
thing: ask no questions, trust me and say 
nothing/ 

“ He looked so strange, I promised, think- 
ing, hoping, it was a matter of business. I 
was made to feel I could help him in no other 
way. He was not wholly bad, I found out 
afterward, and looked at it all in this way: if 
he had (what he called) a harmless fancy once 
in a while, he wanted, expected, his wife and 
friends to treat him as a man above suspicion. 
He made no explanations. He would talk with 
me gravely, calmly get up, stir the fire, all in 
a natural, easy way; stand with his back to 
the fire and look down at me, as if nothing 
had happened. I knew all was not right but 
could not explain it. I could not understand 
it, but felt my first real sorrow was settling its 
wing over me; it had a most curious effect — 
62 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


instead of stunning or rendering me weak or 
incapable, it suddenly changed me from a child 
into a practical, clever, and wide-awake woman. 

“ The very quality of my voice changed. I 
had been told times without number that I 
possessed a sweet and beautiful face; but for 
the last few weeks it had changed, my glass 
told me; the sweetness had gone, but resolu- 
tion had grown round the curved lips, the eyes 
were softer. I was still too young, fresh, and 
unused to trouble for it to leave any visible 
mark on my face. 

“ I knew the delicate color in my cheek 
paled, my eyes looked larger, more wistful, 
than their wont; but otherwise no one could 
tell that my heart beat heavily as I listened 
eagerly for a footstep which was so often late; 
hour after hour I waited, making one excuse 
after another to myself. But the longest hours 
come to an end. 

“If we could only cast a spell over things 
we wish to keep, which fit all our requirements. 
If we could wash out of our blood, in the be- 
ginning, that blind demoniacal passion we call 
love, how much better off we should be in the 
end! profound joys can only exist in profound 
hearts. 

“ I was so troubled about my husband when 
63 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


awake that as soon as sleep came I had the 
intangible, dark, and foreboding dreams which 
worry makes. I knew he was deceiving me, 
and though I spoke of it to no one, my eyes 
could be blinded no longer. My passion for 
him had increased in the few short months we 
had been married. I often wondered if the day 
would come when I could bear no more; I 
had been so happy before I met my husband — 
so happy since. Why does God allow some- 
thing to mar every bright spot? Can we be- 
lieve in an all-seeing eye? Does it not seem as 
though God slept at times? Many times I de- 
termined to put from me the black thing which 
was hanging over me. I could not live with 
my husband and know he was not what he 
ought to be, and I could not part with him. I 
thought to myself, the time will come when he 
will open his heart to me. When he folded me 
in his arms I looked up into his face and waited 
eagerly for him to speak. I felt my heart w r as 
breaking, but hearts do not break; they may 
break our spirit and body, but our heart bends. 
We are all born to our load or cross; for life 
is a bondage of one kind or another. 

“ Every skin has its own nature, and every 
nature its own laws, in a measure; while all 
men act under one common law that is called 

64 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


nature, the varieties in their dispositions, their 
modes of judging and feeling, and their selfish- 
nesses are infinite. 

“ As I put my arms around my husband’s 
neck, the look in his eyes was so different; 
not the old look of love; I couldn’t help them 
dropping slowly away and my heart swelling 
in a big, frightened way, and then going back 
and back, like the waves when the tide is going 
out. I grew cold with the strongest, most 
deadly passion of which one is capable — jeal- 
ousy, which is cruel as the grave. 

“ I knew my duty was to believe in my hus- 
band, to believe him innocent until I proved 
him false. 

“ Women love truer at thirty than at twenty, 
and are happier in loving, for they know their 
own hearts better; but they love passionately 
at twenty. 

“ The 4 cousin ’ still stayed on; my husband 
could not see the need of her going; our house 
was surely large enough for three people. 

“ The time came for us to go into the coun- 
try, and his cousin must go too. My health 
was not, at this time, the best. I felt as though 
I did not look as I would have wished at all 
times; while she always looked as fresh as 
though God had made her anew every morn- 
65 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


in g. We went to a poor, sleepy little place, 
where nettles of the devil can be plucked any 
day. 

“ There were many walks in the gloaming, 
and long past the gloaming, long after my 
heart was tired, long after the rustic thought 
all fun over and the neighborhood was one 
unanimous snore. Wafts of balmy secrets blew 
across the by-ways and through the limpid gray 
coolness. We strolled through miles of butter- 
cups and daisies. Most people make fools of 
themselves by moonlight, and if you have a 
husband or a lover who likes to trail around 
in the moonlight, go with him or give him 
up to his own destruction; for the night is 
never really honest. ‘ If you do not want your 
porridge burnt, stir it with your own hand/ 
No matter what good influences may be ex- 
erted over a man or woman who cannot say 
No, they must fall; they are only decent while 
under an eye of which they stand a little in awe; 
there seems a spirit impelling them to do a little 
something when not under that supervision 
which they would never do while under it. 

“ I had to be trodden in the dust before I 
fully awakened and my pride could show me 
what I owed to myself. My pride was all that 
- kept me from yielding to despair, and as I 
66 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


found my husband’s passionate nature, when 
excited to the uttermost, knew no bounds, I 
learned to tremble for the consequences. His 
glance in appalling ferocity flamed down upon 
my delicate figure as I stood before him when 
I told him, as I did on one or two occasions, 
that he was forfeiting the right to call me wife. 
He told me I need not judge by outward ap- 
pearances, that he did not propose to force him- 
self within the icy, pedantic rules of society, 
with those fetters which society would place 
upon everyone who would bear them. He 
proposed to burst the fetters and be as free 
as air; he said this in a light tone, as though 
our previous life were done and of no conse- 
quence. He said ‘ the ground-tone of my nat- 
ure seemed elegiac’; he believed I had never 
thought him my equal, because he could not 
soar to the heights or penetrate the depths of 
my ideally romantic love. 

“ ‘ You are quite right/ I told him, bitterly. 
‘ Remain upon the bright surface if you can ; 
there is only slime down there where you seem 
to be seeking for treasure. I am weary of it 
all; I must rest; I cannot go on longer, when 
every word is a sting. For weeks it has only 
needed a spark to set fire to the inflammable 
material which broods over this house/ 

67 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ * I will go ! ’ he said. 4 1 will not have my 
actions spied upon; I will not have my 
thoughts and feelings dictated to me/ 

“ Wyndham was too much under the control 
of passion to listen to me, and went on with the 
worst kind of abuse until I was unable to bear 
more; he would not have these endless con- 
flicts; he would not have what was his natural 
right interfered with ; I had ‘ robbed him of 
happiness and freedom/ This is the way pas- 
sion overflows; it turns its hatred against all 
which stands in its path, whether guilty or in- 
nocent. I trembled at the pitiless cruelty of 
his words. Love is of itself a sort of malady, 
from which none die. History keeps no record 
in its time-worn archives of the blood and tears, 
the heart-throbs, crimes, treacheries, and strat- 
agems which have indirectly made up the mis- 
ery of this world. It might be better if we 
were all able to read between the lines. My 
heart felt chilled as with a November blast; 
what was I coming to? Could I bear this thing 
that was coming upon me? I had never loved 
my husband as I loved him to-day; I could 
have flung myself at his feet and begged of 
him to put this thing from him, and let the 
world go by; begged him to let sin or misery 
be my portion, only not to leave me. When 
68 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


I was at last alone in my room I felt as if 
conscience and honor had both suffered in the 
conflict. 

“ We must feel, as we look at some men, 
that they are only fit to be Mormons; they 
must have all sorts of qualifications, and are 
enwrapped in an atmosphere either supernat- 
ural or devilish, as they stray from the straight 
and narrow road very easily, with no evil con- 
sequences. It is hard to restore our faith in 
humanity after being with them for awhile. 

“ Neither of us had counted on the stubborn 
pride which will rise up at the wrong time 
and in the wrong place. As well hope to move 
the heart of a stone as that of a man or woman 
hot after a new fancy; we may try all our 
wiles, but the love of the past is a burnt-out 
flame; we may be more sweet, more beautiful, 
but the other is more new. 

“ I spent hours in God only knows what deep 
waters of mental agony before I was resigned 
to my fate. I could not think why I should 
be under such thraldom. I know not how I 
happened to escape. 

“ There are a few unhappy marriages we 
can perhaps lay to the contrariness of human 
nature. I remembered now that a package of 
letters had been handed my fiance about a 
69 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


month before our marriage, and that he had 
been very much disturbed; those letters had 
been written by him to the one he called cousin 
— the first dated two years before — and there 
were scores of them; for all those weeks and 
months they had carried on a correspondence 
and arranged and kept appointments. I knew 
at last that blood was warmer than water, if not 
thicker. My bitter, with very little that was 
sweet, was coming early. I afterward read in 
one of those letters ‘ we will live for each other, 
and together. I will have perfect faith in you. 
I will marry Ruth, but no matter if I do marry 
her, you need not be parted from me.’ One 
must be a woman to understand my feelings 
at that time. 

“ I came upon those two one evening — at 
least, I saw them, but they did not know it, and 
heard my own husband say : ‘ This pain which 
is gnawing at my heart will kill me!’ He 
'dropped his head on his hands and uttered a 
groan, and when he raised his head his eyes 
were brimming. He bent forward for her re- 
ply. She swayed; he drew her toward him and 
kissed her with a kiss of greater importance to 
her than it could possibly be to him. It seemed 
to stir the girl to her very soul; she trembled 
from head to foot; slowly, very slowly, a 
70 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


crimson flood of color suffused her face, then 
receded, leaving her deathly pale; she drew 
back with a smothered, sobbing sigh and 
turned dumbly toward the door, but the tone 
of enticing entreaty, the pleading look which 
my husband used, was irresistible; he looked 
silently down into her face, and the spell he 
exercised over all who were near was strong 
enough to keep her where she knew it was 
wrong to stay. I saw that once more he had 
conquered. 

******* 

“ When, a half-hour later, he left her, night 
had already fallen and the moon was slowly 
rising; where was I? I might as well have 
been dead. I had not forgotten my vow; the 
vow I made to God on my wedding-day out of 
the very deeps, and which I determined, as far 
as in me lay, absolutely to carry out. 

“ We could not lead a life of petty quarrel- 
ling. Some houses are no better than a private 
hell. 

“ I knew the dark, keen eyes of my husband 
could see that this could not go on very long; 
it was pride alone which had sustained me in 
clouds as well as sunshine, and a look of relief 
was all I could read on his face now if I said 
nothing. I had got to the point where I won- 
71 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


dered if he thought I should be content with 
what seemed left for me of his love very much 
longer. We only lived in harmony when I 
kept very much to myself, and I did this thing, 
as others have done it, to avoid open hostility; 
but is there a harder thing for woman to do? 
to try and look as though there were nothing 
wrong, when her heart is breaking over the 
fact of her husband not being true to his vows, 
and loving another more than he ever has loved 
her; but is this love? ought we to designate 
it as love? let us not give it that title. I had 
thought I knew my husband, but found old 
habits had taken too deep root for a simple 
thing like married life to have any hold. He 
was clever enough, conventional enough to suit 
outsiders, and with that I had to be content, 
but I could not yet wear a mask of serene in- 
difference. I made few exhibitions of my bit- 
terness. I felt that God deserved all that I 
could possibly give Him, and to give it abso- 
lutely and without reservation, I think, kept 
me from losing my senses. I had a starvation 
which no physical food could satisfy, no mental 
food could appease. I prayed against this hun- 
ger, but could not beat it down; at last I felt 
that all I craved was my niche of rest and peace; 
my faith and love were gone. 

72 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ If I had the gnawing hunger now which I 
had for so long it would kill me, if I had not 
you, my child, to do for.” 

“ Oh! ” cried Sisero. “ I shall never want 
to marry now, Auntie. After hearing your 
story I can never forget your sad life; I know 
I am not very old in years, but I think I can 
understand part of your misery. I have never 
thought, in looking at your smiling face, that 
it might have known sorrow. It seems impos- 
sible to go through so much and still keep a 
happy face.” 

“ My dear child, I made up my mind years 
ago that what I could not help I would make 
the best of; also, that I would not parade either 
my grief or joy too much, for we can never 
tell whether either will be well received. If 
we are too light-hearted for those with whom 
we happen to be, we are said to be unfeeling 
or selfish of our own pleasure; if we are too 
loud in our grief, it is put on, * for the louder 
the grief the hotter the love, the sooner over/ 
Such are the old sayings which crop out in 
certain people to fit every occasion not in ac- 
cordance with their views. 

“ The world expects a great deal of us all, 
and is never satisfied; we either do too much 
or too little. And so, why do we try to please 
73 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


anyone but ourselves? it is hard enough to 
do that.” 

“ How much better it was, Auntie, if you 
could not live with your husband, not to have 
had any children ; and what would I have done 
if I could not have had you after my own 
mother was taken away? ” 

“ But, Sisero, I did have one little boy, who 
only lived a few months.” 

“ Oh, dear, was there still something more 
you had to bear?” 

“ Yes, I had hoped you would not have 
thought of that, as your young ears have heard 
quite enough of trouble; so let us not talk 
of it any more to-night.” 

“ Oh, yes, Auntie, please tell me — unless you 
think you can bear no more — then we will 
never speak of it again.” 

“ Well, child, I will tell you all now, and 
put it out of my mind; for I find, in bringing 
it back, that it seems very real, and I do not 
care to return to a subject over which I have 
been so unhappy. 

“ My boy only lived five months ; he was 
a healthy, sturdy little fellow, when he was 
taken sick and died so suddenly. 

“ It was a cold night in winter; I was alone 
in the house with my baby and the servants. 


74 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


We had put baby to bed as usual; sleep seemed 
impossible to me that night; I tossed in my 
bed in the most restless way, and the hours 
dragged on to midnight. All at once I heard 
the strangest sound — was it a cry of someone 
in distress or the bark of a dog? What an 
awful sound it had in my ears as it broke on 
the stillness of the night! I shivered with fear 
as I got up, put on a loose white double gown, 
and went into the next room, where my baby 
was sleeping with the nurse; a night-lamp was 
burning dimly, and the fire in the grate threw 
a fitful glow around. I go to the lace-curtained 
cot and bend over the child; not that I for one 
moment think there is anything wrong, but 
force of habit takes me there first if anything 
troubles me. Just as I look at him, he gives 
that hoarse, strange sound. I have never heard 
anything like it, but I know it is not right and 
that something must be done. In a short time 
one of the servants is despatched for the doctor, 
and soon the stillness of the night is broken 
by voices and the tramping of feet; baby's 
nurse knows what it is which is striking such 
a chill to our hearts, but does not, in so many 
words, tell me. I have heard of croup, but 
know nothing about it or what ought to be 
done. I sit with a face of despair, holding the 
75 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


little fellow in my arms for what seems hours 
to me, before the doctor comes. It is not one- 
half hour. The struggle for breath, the hoarse, 
horrible cry, once heard, is never forgotten. 

“ The usual remedies of hot bath, steam, and 
all the appliances to throat and chest are of no 
avail. The leaden-footed hours of the night 
drag wearily on toward the dawn. Slowly the 
wind dies away in sobbing sighs; slowly the 
coming day paints the dark clouds with shades 
of pink and yellow. Such an agony of sus- 
pense! can nothing be done, nothing avail? It 
is agony to look at such cruel spasms of pain, 
while flickers more and more faintly the fleeting 
breath, and with it goes all my courage; can 
nothing be done to save my darling? he is all 
that is left of my bright hopes of so short a 
time before. 

“ I heg hard to hold my precious child, for 
I think I can keep him; but as the sun breaks 
through the clouds it shines on a still little 
face free from pain. My child is mine no longer. 

I am now alone. Not a friend near, for there 
has been no time to stop; it has all come so 
quickly. I cry, ‘Oh! doctor, is he asleep? * 
and my tearless eyes are fastened on the lovely . 
little face. Can I give up what is so great a 
part of my life? Must it be so? 

76 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ And then, with gentle hands and pitying 
words, they lead me from the poor little angel. 
I am dazed. I cannot at first realize just what 
this means ; I do not know what it means until 
he is taken from my sight forever; while he 
is still where I can look at him it does not seem 
as real, this awful thing — he looks so natural, 
so like my baby; but the time comes soon 
enough; then my sorrow knows no bounds. 
I have been dazed by all the bustle which the 
last days have seen, the confusion of the brief 
illness; the sun may shine now, but I cannot 
see it; I can see only the little figure, so 
strangely still ; it is such a hopeless pain ; there 
is so much gone out of my life. I wake to days 
of pain and grief, and cry again to God to let 
me die. My troubles came early and all to- 
gether. I was stupefied, and my people watched 
me with anxiety. The cold, tearless grief is 
worse than the most frantic sorrow. 

“ I was desperate at last. I felt as if my only 
safeguard had been swept away — the only thing 
I had clung to; what was there to live for now? 

“ I lay anchorless, shelterless, on the dark 
sea of life; I could see no ray of hope or light. 
The chill of winter passed into the fair, sweet 
months of spring, but no change came to my 
spirits; a strange chill and silence rested over 
77 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


me. No one whom I had known before my 
trouble looked the same to me now. I was 
urged to go more into the society of my friends 
— those who had once amused me; but I saw 
no pleasure in it now. My youth seemed to 
have died with my child, and my eyes looked 
back at me from my glass with tears unshed. 

“ A change of scene was proposed, and I 
was in that spiritless state which makes no ob- 
jection. I was borne off, in a passive mood, 
to a quiet place in the country; and, amidst 
the tranquil, pastoral loveliness, with the beauty 
of wood and stream, I led for a few weeks a 
dreamy life which soothed away the old pain. 
My life here was too simple to be vexing. My 
trouble was less cold and hard; the angel came 
to me with less pain. I could, after a few weeks, 
talk and even smile. There was in this life 
nothing to remind me of the past. This moun- 
tain solitude, so grand, sublime, immovable, 
soothed and calmed my brain and heart. I was 
learning to bear my life with less regret and 
repining. I had felt as if life was altogether too 
hard; there was a waste of love, a dearth of 
happiness; I must learn to take it as it came. 
My heart stood still when I thought of what I 
had suffered. We expect too much of frail 
human nature. I had learned my lesson in 
78 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


grief and bitterness a little early — perhaps it 
would be all the better. I think it has done 
me no harm. I could not speak of it for years. 
‘ Greatest joys and greatest woes are dumb.’ 
I learned to ‘ tell to the wind my private woes, 
but not to human ear.' At times my thoughts 
return to sad memories. I am happier since 
I learned to forgive my husband. My Bayard 
he can never be again. But why cry over the 
remnants of a past love? let me rather turn 
my life to some account and look for a bright 
side, if there is one, for we do not see it if not 
looking for it. 

“ Because we cannot do all we wish, and in 
the precise way we wish, we have no right to 
refuse to do all the good we can in the way 
that is open to us; for it is only by the unre- 
mitting performance of individual duty that 
any public evil will be remedied or any public 
good accomplished. 

" * Learn patience from the lesson 

Though the night be drear and long, 

To the darkest sorrow there comes a morrow, 

A right to every wrong.’ 

“ A woman who loves must forget herself in 
that love. I had lost my ideal; I had only 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


wounded pride left — a broken idol. My lips 
were my husband’s in their first kisses of love. 
I am looked upon as a little eccentric, which I 
am not; no one knows me as I really am, as 
I hope you may some time, child, if you live 
to be a woman.” 

“ And you have borne all this and look so 
happy? ” said Sisero, wonderingly. 

“ It does seem long to you, my child, but it 
is in reality only a few years. I hope to see 
many happy years with you, and I will not let 
the past shadow those to come. My love was 
all my life to me; to my husband only another 
experience.” 

Instinctively these two beautiful women draw 
closer together. Sisero leans her head on her 
aunt’s shoulder, and tears fill her eyes — tears of 
sympathy; her aunt tells her to be brave and 
face whatever is her lot — to live her life nobly 
and well. 

Everything is quiet, neither liking a glare 
of lights; no light but the log-fire, which casts 
a fitful gleam all around. 

They look at the stars coming out one by 
one, talking less and less, a feeling of sadness 
in both hearts. The sense of being together, 
the knowledge that they understand each other 
is enough. 


80 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


They sit this way with arms around each 
other for hours, not talking any more, but 
thinking — the aunt of the past and how thank- 
ful she is to have this blessed child to take 
the place of the one she lost. She knows she 
is truly blest in health, money, and the love 
of such a companion. Sisero is a little confused 
with what she has heard, and is sure she could 
never have borne what her aunt has, and still 
be so cheerful. 

We will wait and see how she takes her life’s 
trials, for she will be an exception if she never 
has any. She breaks the silence at last by say- 
ing: 

“ I think it must be dreadful to marry some- 
one for whom you do not care, but much worse 
to marry one you worship and find false. Your 
story seems to crush out all my ideals; it fright- 
ens me.” 

“ My darling, it is all told now; think no 
more about it. We will be all in all to each 
other. I want to see the delicate color in your 
face again ; it has faded, leaving you pinched 
and drawn. It is too late now for you to get 
your beauty sleep, so let us sit down on the 
hearth-rug and see pictures in the fire before 
we go to bed, and dispel the sadness. This 
can’t be helped now, child, and even if you are 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


disappointed in my life, you may not be in 
your own.” 

The two sat there in the ruddy light long 
after perhaps the child ought to have been in 
bed. 

The aunt threw off, while Sisero was with 
her, all unpleasant thoughts; but had talked 
too long of her life sorrow to have it leave her 
mind immediately, and long after Sisero was 
asleep she went over and over again the old 
trouble. All the little scenes came back; of 
how she had waited hour after hour for her 
husband, and when he at last would come she 
would ask if it was business kept him so late. 
But why do we go over all this again? There 
are those who have had enough of it to know; 
others who have had nothing else. How the 
light dies out of the eyes at such a time! after 
each trial, how the soul sinks into itself! Why 
do they not try to restore the faith which they 
have had in the beginning? 

How long this went on we will not say. We 
only know Ruth got to such a nervous state 
she could not hear music and keep back the 
tears; for, with her emotional nature, music 
had the power to bring either tears or sunshine. 
On one occasion, when she had been to an 
organ recital, she was so overcome, she came 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


home, threw herself on her bed and, without 
undressing, fell asleep. Such sleep ! such 
dreams! “ I saw myself carried into church 
in a coffin, the organ pouring forth such a vol- 
ume of sound as few of us hear on earth. Music 
seemed to emanate from every window, every 
rafter of the church.” 

Music had not been the safest recreation for 
such a highly strung nature. 

“ As each strain rolled from the organ, I 
clasped my hands at its passion, its unutterable 
sadness, its despair. Oh! why had my hus- 
band not loved me as I had loved him? The 
disappointment had killed me. As each of my 
favorite pieces rolled out of the organ, it seemed 
as if I must rise and see if my husband was 
there, or, if there, mourning as I felt I should 
do if he lay where I was lying now. Suddenly 
the organ burst upon the ear with the sweeping 
chords which grow more powerful as the or- 
ganist plays largo; it fills the church to over- 
flowing. My senses seemed stunned, over- 
whelmed; my soul seems to run from earth 
to heaven. All at once a female voice bursts 
into Schubert's ‘ Serenade.’ Oh ! to die and 
to be carried to Heaven with such music! Hour 
after hour I lie there, with first one song of 
melody, then another. 

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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ The organ at last strikes into the ‘ Lost 
Chord ’ with a solemnity no other instrument 
can do. How the huge billows of sound roll 
out, followed by the most pathetic passages! 
can anything be more impressive, grander? 
Again the organ, with thrilling notes, breaks 
in on the ear and soul with Gounod’s 4 Ave 
Maria.’ My soul rises from earth to Heaven; 
the minor keys are still minor, but there’s a 
ring of melody, of victory, which is entrancing. 
I smell the incense, hear the chanting, then 
the organ notes again rise like waves, like riv- 
ers, like cataracts, flooding the church with 
sound. 

“ I remember no more of the dream; I know 
not how long I slept or dreamed — long enough 
to know what heavenly music is. 

“ Music — my heart’s delight, my most seduc- 
ing evil genius, my temptress, my traitress. 

“ How many times we have heard the ex- 
pression, ‘To die is gain’; it would be for 
one who loves music as I do, if, by so doing, 
we hear the kind of music in heaven I heard 
that night in my dream. Our lives are largely 
responsible for such visions. If we could only 
have a fire-guard or ploughshare around our 
heart’s desire to keep out trouble. 

“ There is no need of dwelling on the days 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


that followed; I have lived years without my 
husband, and hope to be happy in my sister’s 
child. We generally end best with those with 
whom we never began. 

“ I have lived a life of activity, which has 
hardened my frame, and reading has done for 
me what it has done for few. I have never had 
the canker fret of remorse. I had within me 
the power of a great passion, but an iron will 
to keep it down. 

“ The instinct which impels us to seek hap- 
piness is the very proof that happiness is a real- 
ity. 

“ Do not unite a woman of sensibility to a 
man who is frigid, indifferent, or fickle. 

“ I used to be loved by all, but for a few years 
after my trouble not beloved by many, for many 
knew me not. I grew strong in myself, and 
in a way independent of human sympathy. My 
words and thoughts are not what they were 
when I was an impulsive and impassioned girl, 
in the springtime of my life. I have been called 
cynical; I am not. I merely know about the 
harder things of this life. I have met all kinds, 
read all kinds of people; those inanimately po- 
lite people, too fashionably bred to be always 
well-bred. 

“Youth has its romance, age its dignity; 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


middle age may be commonplace to those who 
have made no preparation for it. I have said 
somewhere that whatever we do, we regret it; 
it is not always so. I regret nothing. I have 
improved every minute of my life so far, and 
hope to always be able to. We need not idle 
hands in order to leave a loophole for that man 
or devil of the no-name series to slip in ; he will 
do so once in awhile in spite of us. 

“ My horoscope had the sign which repre- 
sents the dream or dark side of life — solitude 
and meditation. Those born under it are great 
thinkers, devoted to book worship, insatiable in 
their desire for intellectual pursuits. They are 
indefatigable, if women ; never tire if in pursuit 
of things interesting to themselves. Will work 
for themselves without stop or stint, but are 
restless when compelled to work for others. 

“ Occasionally one is born under this sign 
who is not subject to fits of depression; but 
it is a rare case. Those born under this sign 
abhor flattery, but are exceedingly apprecia- 
tive of the commendation which they feel they 
have earned. They are magnetic and draw 
people to them by the working of a natural 
law; they distrust any special demonstration 
of affection; they know when they are really 
liked, and that is quite sufficient. It is torture 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


to them if, through courtesy, they are obliged 
to submit to caresses, unless from one they 
love. They are often victims of overwork, be- 
cause of their determination to achieve brill- 
iantly whatever they undertake, and because 
of their lack of judgment in reference to their 
powers of endurance. 

“ They resent all interference, and never 
meddle with the affairs of others. They are 
fine entertainers, have excellent memories, and 
excel in story-telling. This is the most brill- 
iant and defined sign in the Zodiac. 

“ When jolly, these people are very jolly; 
when miserable, they are most miserable, and 
can never find an adequate reason for their 
wretchedness. 

“ They are kind-hearted, loyal, true friends; 
once a friend, always a friend. Usually careful 
in money matters and business affairs; sacred- 
ly regarding a promise. They are natural 
planners, and know how to make both ends 
meet. They are adapted to the carrying out 
of large projects, and have wonderful conti- 
nuity in attending to any enterprise which 
promises material benefits, but are apt to lose 
heart when the outlook is small. They are 
very discreet financial managers, being careful 
housekeepers, with great taste in the arrange- 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


ment and management of a home. They are 
proud, high-minded, determined, independent, 
lovers of harmony and beauty, and apt to live 
too much in externals.” 


88 


IV. 

The woman with no past has no future. 1 


W E think our child has been fortu- 
nate in being left to the care of 
such a woman — an accomplished, 
high-bred woman of experience; 
one who has travelled much, well-read, and in 
most things a remarkably interesting woman 
— her voice persuasive in its gentleness, be- 
speaking the nobility of her soul. It was so 
much to Sisero to have a person of such wide 
experience to train and guide her, just as she 
got where girls need, more than boys, a hand 
both firm and capable. Her aunt, still young 
and of a delicate and refined character, her 
distinguished manner revealing her aristo- 
cratic birth. She was what we seldom see — 
an adorable woman, with an immeasurable 
pride. 

Sisero was truly blessed. Blonde, like her 
mother, with her beautiful eyes of a deep blue, 
surrounded by brows as brown as the lashes 

89 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


which swept the somewhat pale complexion; 
a very expressive face. Her vitality gave to 
her manner brightness and charm; she had 
that about her which needed a watchful eye, 
a guiding hand. She is now at the age 
when continuous study is necessary, and has 
developed a wonderful talent for music. Her 
happiest hours are passed at the piano. At 
sixteen her voice was truly wonderful; her 
education so far complete, in all but knowl- 
edge of the world, its ideas and exactions. Evil 
was unknown to her, and she was without 
vanity, her whole soul wedded to her music. 
Her aunt watched her growing like a flower 
which blooms on the top of the mountain, with 
none to admire but those who are in daily con- 
tact, and dreaded the time, which she knew 
must come, for Sisero to go where her studies' 
could be carried to greater perfection. The 
time was coming when she would cease to be 
a child, when she would stand face to face 
with a future, and she knew no amount of 
training could prepare this child of nature for 
some things which she must encounter a little 
later. 

As Sisero would enter her presence fresh as 
a flower, smiling as a May morning, light as 
a bird, her heart misgave her. Sisero was such 


90 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


a child in some things, with her gay laugh and 
fawn-like bounds, her ignorance of disappoint- 
ment and weariness; she had lived so far in 
an atmosphere of affection and peace, but 
she reflected, “ Nothing is lasting, not even 
innocent happiness — that, perhaps, least of 
all.” 

Sisero’s grief at her mother’s death had been 
profound, but to the first period of grief suc- 
ceeded one less poignant, for grief does not 
long remain in the heart of one so young; hope 
soon asserts itself, and life assumes a cheerful 
aspect. 

When Sisero was allowed to sing, to study 
for that purpose, her joy knew no bounds; she 
felt that not much remained to complete her 
happiness. As she would run her fingers over 
the keys, her voice would rise and fill the room; 
but when the song was ended she could not 
talk. “ I can sing,” she would say, “ but can- 
not talk of it. I dream of my music in the still 
hours of the night; it floats in my ears some- 
times like the waves of the ocean. I have no 
words to describe the beautiful melody I dream 
of. There is for me always an interpretation, 
sometimes a beauty, which is torture. It makes 
me tremble when it is soft and faint, then bursts 
forth into sweet melody. Certain kinds of 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


music cast a spell over me I have no power to 
resist.” 

Sisero was all impatience to go abroad; 
youth, health, and strength are good travelling 
companions. No one knows what a fascination 
there was in it all for this child who had been 
kept so close at home. At first the bustle and 
confusion bewildered her, accustomed as she 
was to a more quiet life, the calm and silence 
of the woods, the ripple of the streams. 

While on the ocean, on awakening, the sun- 
light came pouring in at the window, illumi- 
nating the room, outside the sea stretched as 
far as the eye could reach, bathed in its golden 
glory. The idea of the infinite had for the 
first time been revealed to her; the sea disputed 
the grandeur of the blue vault over her head. 

Feeling no unpleasantness from either fa- 
tigue or sickness, she sat for hours content to 
do nothing but listen to the water, watching 
the fleecy clouds and the deep blue of the sea. 

The white wings of peace brooded over her 
visage. She longed to face what was to her 
a winning future. The wine of life was flow- 
ing through her veins, quickening her pulses 
and giving to her shy beauty the exquisite glow 
of virginal youth and innocence. 

“ The child will some day be a rare beauty,” 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


softly said the aunt to herself; and seeing the 
admiration she called forth everywhere she 
went, knew there would have been little study 
for one who had less determination and love 
of it. Her love of music might keep her when 
necessity would not. As Sisero moved among 
strangers the simplicity of her gowns, her 
nameless air of distinction, the seal of nature’s 
finest nobility, the lovely combination of her 
golden hair with the brown lashes shading 
matchless eyes, the pose of her willowy form 
caused the eyes of the opposite sex to glow 
with admiration. 

They spent a little time in sight-seeing before 
settling down to actual work. Sisero’s bright 
face and sweet girlish voice were an open 
sesame to most places, and every day brought 
fresh roses to her cheek; and, as her aunt 
would look at her beautiful child, she would 
say to herself, “ She shall not be a prey to 
any bitterness which I can prevent.” Her aunt 
would gaze at her as she sat and listened with 
awe as the holy mystery of the mass proceeded 
in one of the many cathedrals. The tears would 
fill her eyes as she thought of what might be 
in store for one with such a pathetic, passion- 
ate, proud nature. 

As a voice thrillingly clear and sweet as a 
93 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


spring lark broke the hushed stillness of the 
worshippers, swelling, rising, floating in plead- 
ing melody through the great interior, Sisero 
would clasp her aunt’s hand with so much feel- 
ing, her aunt knew of what she was thinking. 
The air of God’s holy temple was breathed by 
them in peace, the intoned prayer to the Al- 
mighty filled their hearts alike with peace and 
thanksgiving for being together and the taste 
to enjoy the same things; there was woman- 
hood, life, and love in every attitude of both 
women. They loved the dim religious light 
in the silence of the imposing arches. 

Sisero’s first grand opera was a superb per- 
formance of “ Magic Flute.” The brilliantly 
lighted house and gayly dressed women en- 
chanted her, while the excitement in hearing 
for the first time such grand music carried her 
above earthly things; it was heaven to her for 
a few hours. She had never heard such won- 
derful harmony, and the marvellous melody of 
the voices and orchestra overwhelmed her. 
What a dream of paradise she indulged in, as 
she thought of the time when she would hear 
her own voice accompanied by such an orches- 
tra! For, although it had not been the inten- 
tion of her protector, nothing short of trying 
her power in that way was going to satisfy Sis- 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


ero from the time she heard her first opera. 
She was very impatient to begin her real work; 
nothing interested her now but music. For a 
short time she had enjoyed the sight-seeing, 
but now she must work. It is not with im- 
punity that one so young gets a glimpse of the 
world, then returns to study and perhaps soli- 
tude. The first seems so beautiful, the other 
so commonplace; but with this girl, although 
she liked what little she had seen of travel and 
the world, she was anxious for her studies to 
proceed. 

Her voice was like gold, and was being 
brought where her teacher saw great possi- 
bilities. 


95 


THE WHITE DAYS 


I 













V. 


W E will now hear our young friend 
sing after a few years’ hard study. 
The night has come when she is 
to appear before her first large 
audience. She is more beautiful than when 
we saw her last, with a fuller developed beauty 
of form and feature, and in her twentieth year. 
She is still so young her friends tremble for 
her, but, knowing her talent, her pride, her 
ambition, they hope for the best. Few of them 
have heard her sing, except in small companies. 
Her teacher assures them they need have no 
fear; he knows what she can do; he is sure 
she will not fail him and herself when the cru- 
cial moment comes. 

At last the evening is here which is to show 
them whether the hard work has been spent 
on the right one or not. 

She is dressed in virgin white, without an 
ornament, nothing but her lovely hair for a 
crown to the most beautiful face. 


99 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


The overture begins. Sisero trembles, but 
only as one who knows her power. As she 
sees the sea of faces, and knows her friends are 
there anxiously waiting, she knows they are 
no more anxious than she is. 

The moment is at hand for which she has 
waited so long and impatiently. She longs to 
hear her own voice in this vast auditorium. She 
must not fail herself; she has waited too long 
for this, has promised herself too much to fail. 

As she feels so much depending on that in- 
stant, she loses all fear; she feels a transport 
hard to define taking the place of all timidity. 

The first sound of her magnificent voice sur- 
prises all but her teacher and herself. Her 
friends’ astonishment is redoubled when the 
manner with which her voice is emitted and 
controlled reveals a precious gift perfectly 
trained. 

After a few moments her success is assured. 
She forgets her personality and the rest of the 
world. She afterward said, when questioned 
as to her sensations, “ You have no idea of the 
intoxicating sensation caused by the sea of 
faces, the accompaniment of the instruments. 
It is a pleasure to hear one’s self, to tell to such 
an audience your interpretation of the com- 
poser’s theme. The excitement of it all is un- 


ioo 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


surpassed. I could ask no greater pleasure in 
this life than to sing my life away in this way.” 

Sisero sang again and again. Her friends 
could not keep still; their agitation was much 
greater than hers. She seemed perfectly calm. 
As she came before the audience again and 
again, she felt that at last her dream was real- 
ized. She had developed, used, her one talent 
to its highest degree. She thought the hap r 
piest moment she should ever see was the one 
when she heard her own first rich, full tones. 

At the end of her first solo the audience be- 
gan to applaud in the most frantic manner; 
after each song the bravos were louder than 
ever; at the final fall of the curtain they stamped 
with enthusiasm. 

Flowers were showered upon her. Some 
may wonder why this high-bred child was al- 
lowed to sing on the stage. Can anyone tell 
me why she should not? why such a talent 
should be wasted? For it is wasted if allowed 
to rust out in a home with no incentive to sing 
except perhaps to one’s own family. 

Give it to the world! Such a voice is often- 
times wasted on one man. It is not as God 
meant it should be, I believe. Why should 
this favorite of heaven be allowed to hide her 
talent? Such a one should be a vestal, caring 

IOI 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


for sacred things — for such a voice is surely 
sacred. 

There are plenty of women who answer every 
purpose as housekeepers, mothers of children, 
etc. Why should all try to do the same thing? 
Some argue that old age coming on looks 
dreary if no family ties have been formed. Can 
we look around on many who have had many 
years of “family” joys? Ties we may have; 
trials we must have — sorrows, suffering, sin; 
but how many have years of what we call solid 
comfort? How many men or women have any 
ties which amount to anything after sixty years 
of age? Are not those who are free to come 
and go oftentimes the happiest? How many 
old people (possibly seventy years of age) do 
any of us know who have a happy old age with 
their children? Do not their sons and daugh- 
ters seem to be waiting for their place, to either 
fill it or have it vacant? What a word! Let 
us not talk longer on such an unpleasant sub- 
ject. 

Every night flowers were showered on our 
young singer, and always a bouquet of white 
camelias and violets, her favorite flowers. She 
looked to see who had thrown them, and saw 
in one of the boxes a young man whose eyes 
were fixed upon her with an expression of pas- 


102 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


sionate admiration. The curtain was lowered, 
but it was rung up again and again; she saw 
the same eyes looking into hers. Her flowers 
were sent home to her, but she carried one 
bouquet, ignoring all others. She sang night 
after night with the same success. Each night 
her violets were thrown from the same box; 
each night her admirer sat, pale and motion- 
less, in that one box; he never failed to salute 
her as one would salute a sovereign. She tried 
to forget, when at home and alone, the crowd, 
the lights; but the music was in her ears, be- 
fore her eyes, night and day, and using up too 
much of her nervous force. Her aunt tried to 
persuade her not to work so hard, to take a 
little more time to rest; she could not do it; 
she would plead for a little while longer. She 
was happiest when she heard her own voice 
accompanied by that great mass of deep and 
powerful instruments. She never spoke of the 
one pair of eyes whose looks of admiration 
could make her outdo all her previous efforts. 
No, that was something which had come to 
be too sacred for even the ears of her best 
friend. She would keep her secret a little 
longer. 

She took now little notice of either the cheer- 
ing or flowers, if only the one she looked for 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


was there in his place; then she could sing. 
“ Who was he? ” she asked herself repeatedly. 
This love, of which to a certain extent she was 
ignorant, was a pure ray which brightened her 
young life, shining in her innocent dreams like 
a mysterious star. She did not try to drive his 
image from her heart; it was too new to her. 

Some of the operas she sang seemed to have 
been written especially for her, to bring out 
to the fullest extent the flexibility and strength 
of her voice. By her sweetness, her grace, and 
simplicity she seemed such a rose among 
thorns. Her marvellous beauty on the stage 
gained her unstinted admiration; all glasses 
were levelled at her. Her manner was incon- 
testable; her carriage elegant in the extreme. 
She had a rare grace; her personality was 
chaste and artless. She thanked all applause 
with a sweet and joyous smile. Every per- 
formance was one incessant ovation. She was 
an incomparable artist. No flowers but the 
violets were taken in hand. She always knew 
when the Parma violets were thrown that the 
one was there for whom she sang, and inclined 
her head to let him know. She was not con- 
tented long with this much, but longed to know 
more — to know his name. His impassioned 
looks inspired her, and that he loved her she 


104 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


could not doubt. She watched for him, looked 
for him, but would not have dared speak to 
him, even if they had met face to face; her 
code of training had not taught her to speak 
without the proper introduction. 

As she sang to him her voice took on a 
deeper thrill; tears of joy passed into it; she 
surpassed herself. She pressed the violets to 
her lips, and in her look she tried to tell him 
she was so soon to go from all this ; were they 
to part without knowing more of each other? 
Was she never to meet him face to face? Sisero 
so far had only known the calm affection and 
love of her aunt and her friends. This new 
feeling was so different, so new, so penetrating; 
her whole being trembled under it. This was 
her first strong passion, and blind as it was 
strong — her first love. She carried home her 
violets, pressing them to her lips. As she came 
into the light of her room she was overjoyed 
to find a bit of paper hidden in the violets. The 
contents read, she ran to open the window; she 
could not breathe; the excitement overpowered 
her. She told her happiness to the stars, passed 
a restless night, but the happiest of her life. 

First love is a magician ; it peoples solitude 
with a thousand enchanted dreams. Sisero told 
her hopes during the silence of the night, some- 
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RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


times as if the beloved one could hear her — 
awoke in the morning with the sun shining 
gloriously in at her windows, sunshine in her 
heart. Running to her window, she looks out 
over all shades stretching to the horizon, fir- 
trees in their sombre tints, oaks with their turn- 
ing leaves, the sky blue as a Neapolitan — every- 
thing seemed to bespeak happiness and life for 
her. Her eyes sparkle; the whole world looks 
joyous. 

It is Sunday the next day, and as Sisero is 
very faithful to religious observances, we find 
her at church; but her thoughts are not on the 
service. I am afraid the little note has cast 
a spell over her dreams and perhaps her waking 
hours. She cannot keep it from her mind that 
she is so soon to meet the one who has worked 
such havoc with her peace of mind. 

When she gets home her aunt meets her at 
the door and tells her she has had a caller, and 
asks Sisero if she cannot guess who had been 
to see her. The girl feigns astonishment, and 
does it very well, but her innocent face cannot 
deceive her aunt, and she soon tells Sisero who 
it is, and that he is coming that evening to meet 
her. Her heart beats almost to suffocation; a 
joyous feeling fills her being. Her prayer, one 
of the many, has been granted; she is filled 
106 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


with joy, and trembles so she is glad to escape 
to her room, away from all eyes. 

Her aunt feels her heart sink when she thinks 
what the result of this meeting may be; how 
can she give up the life-work she has laid out 
for herself? She must remember, however, 
that Sisero is a woman and may want to judge 
for herself. She will not oppose anything 
which seemed to be for her child’s good or 
happiness. 

There is no need so soon to examine matters 
with a practical eye. All this time Sisero is 
communing with herself. Now at last, after 
what has seemed a long delay, she is to meet 
one whom she is sure she loves with no school- 
girl caprice, no romantic passion which will 
soon pass away. No! all her aspirations, all 
her desires are connected with this dream. She 
set about making her toilet; she is not easily 
pleased; she wants to look beautiful in her 
lover’s eyes, which are not new to her in their 
expression. She chose, as usual, a gown of 
white, with no ornament but the usual Parma 
violets. The time seems long before her lover 
comes, but he comes at last. Forcing self-con- 
trol, she comes into the presence of the one 
who is to have such a hand in her destiny. Her 
paleness soon gives place to a roseate hue; her 
107 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


eyes shine with suppressed feeling; excitement 
gave a glow to her eyes and cheeks which made 
her look radiant. As her lover looks at her, 
he cannot help making a gesture of admiration ; 
he thinks he has never seen her look so beauti- 
ful. He takes her hand as the aunt speaks their 
names, and thanks her for granting him this 
pleasure. It is not in vain that he tries to read 
Sisero’s feelings. She is too young, too little 
a child of the world, to play at any such thing. 

Declarations of love are stupid. It was not 
many days before he looked down into her 
eyes, and those lips that had never kissed for 
love before were pressed upon his. It was not 
all fear that she felt as she covered his loving 
eyes with her hand; she could not quite bear 
their burning light. His face is softened; his 
lips tremble, and his hand shakes as it touches 
hers. They are happy at last. As they walk or 
ride beside each other, they often go without 
speaking so long they are at last afraid to break 
the silence. Many delicious hours did they 
spend in this way, with no need of speech to 
know just how each other felt. Happiness had 
spread her wings and softly covered their 
hearts. They felt as though their feet were 
treading a promised land; the days are full of 
pleasure, whether they wander through the si- 
108 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


lent woods or the open country. They can al- 
most imagine they are alone in the world, with 
no thought that anything can happen. Even if 
speaking on ordinary subjects, they bask in 
each other’s presence. Even if her lover spoke 
to another, his voice thrilled her to the depths 
of her soul. Little by little the human heart 
is satiated; and, as the first bursts of joy calm 
down, lovers are willing and satisfied to remaip 
quiet if in each other’s presence. 

The nights were superb ; and when the moon 
shone with a clear light over the country, like 
a white veil, the trees gently swayed in the 
breeze and threw thick shadows around the 
pair. 

Everything seemed glorified in the profound 
silence of the night; the uncertain light changed 
the form of objects and deceived the eye as to 
distance. In this sweet evening peace there 
steals over one a feeling particularly conducive 
of repose, and forgetfulness that it cannot last. 
One breathes as in a dream ; the world is for- 
gotten, the heart tells its secrets, not ashamed 
of anything. Sisero abandons herself to the 
delights of her life at this period, with a fervor 
which few can feel; she does not stop to ana- 
lyze any part of it. She knows she is supremely 
happy under God’s eye; nothing exists for her 
109 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


but what is of her lover and with him, and he 
looks at her with love, admiration, and respect. 

The days pass quickly, full of sweet thought 
and memories. It is true that we are as help- 
less as drops of water in the sea of passion. 
Her lover’s impassioned glances as he would 
lift her hands from the keyboard made Sisero’s 
heart beat fiercely. Her lover never seemed to 
think anyone else had any right to her time. 
As she would come into his presence, dressed 
in her simple fashion, her face animated, her 
step light, radiant with the joy of anticipation, 
her lover’s eyes told her she was beautiful ; and 
when in drawing-rooms brilliantly illuminated 
with softly shaded lamps, producing a delight- 
ful twilight, flowers in every available spot, an 
orchestra discoursing sweet music, nothing was 
lacking to make a fairy-like scene, the acme of 
all that is brilliant. As a waltz struck up he 
would not wait to ask, but led her away. There 
is a delicious feeling of possession, keeping time 
to the music in one of the most harmonious of 
dances — the waltz. Is there any pleasure to 
equal it, to one who is fond of such a thing? 
To lose one’s self in the crowd, led and held by 
the loved one; out of breath, perhaps, with joy, 
sometimes with exertion. Sisero felt at times 
as though earth held nothing better, while in 


no 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


such a fairy-like place, talking over that sweet 
story of old with her lover, when they were 
far enough from the music for just a waft of 
sound to reach them at intervals, which had in 
it a voice of love, hope, and joy. They could 
almost hear the beating of their own hearts — 
too soon to come back to earth. Is not the 
happiest part of it, sometimes, thinking it over? 
Sisero was a favorite, and no matter what ex- 
cuse was offered by either herself or her lover 
for not appearing on all occasions, walks, rides, 
excursions of all kinds, dances, etc., people 
would none of it; go they must; there was 
love-making to fall back on when all else failed. 
And Sisero generally looked as fresh as if she 
had never heard the word fatigue; her young 
life had strengthened a constitution good in 
the beginning, and, although restless with all 
the excitement, she was seldom tired, never 
impatient. At times she longed for a smell of 
the damp woods. She felt overwhelmed with 
the attentions she received; for, with her music, 
her triumph in singing, she was the principal 
attraction of every company, and besieged with 
homage and flattery, honored with courtesies 
by the women, distinguished wherever she ap- 
peared. She felt oppressed with the admiration 
flowing in from every side, perhaps due to her 


hi 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


beauty as much as to her music. Her enticing 
charm was not only music and beauty; but 
there was another quality which cast a spell. 
No one understands whence it comes. Her 
manner of speaking, her movements and gest- 
ures were more lively and unrestrained than the 
strict forms of society demanded. Her dress 
was quite different from the magnificent toilets 
of the other ladies; she cared less for dress than 
music, and would say, when talking with her 
friends, “ I have grown up in the world of song 
and harmony, and I cannot understand how 
room can be found for other duties.” 

As the two lovers looked at each other, in 
their eyes there glowed passionate souls, and 
a look of such depth in hers as is often the in- 
heritance of a gifted nature. And only in a 
mature man comes the look which Sisero saw 
in her betrothed’s eyes. It well became the 
high forehead; in his features lay deep shad- 
ows, and around his mouth lines which she 
little understood. He was a man of the world 
and well versed in all its ways, although young. 


VI. 


T HE bright, fragrant spring days were 
followed by summer heat. The days 
were intensely hot, the evenings 
brought neither coolness nor refresh- 
ment; not a breath seemed to move the air; 
the sun went down in a glowing cloud; the 
splendor of the sunset had, as it were, sub- 
merged earth and sky in a sea of flame and 
transfigured all nature with its dazzling ra- 
diance. In the western horizon flashed and 
gleamed those wondrous shifting hues, diffus- 
ing a flood of light over the city domes and 
houses. It is a lovely panorama; everywhere 
reigns beauty, warmth, and magnificence of 
color. 

On the terrace which borders a path we find 
our girl, after one of these hot days. Here is 
assembled a numerous company, whom the 
charms of the beautiful evening and the en- 
chanting prospect have enticed outside after 
the hot day. The grave dress of the gentlemen, 
in striking contrast to the gay toilets of the 
113 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


ladies, seem a part of the sunset. The company 
promenaded, chatted, laughed, and sat in un- 
constrained groups ; in some of the groups the 
conversation is carried on with vivacity, but 
for the most part the heat has in a way subdued 
the spirit of many. Later, earth and sky seemed 
to blend together with a little more vapor, 
which turned into a swaying mass of clouds in 
a short time. No longer is it sunset; no longer 
can any object very far away be discerned. A 
thick, gray, misty shroud is over all; a storm 
is fast coming, for which our heated friends are 
thankful. A convulsion follows the repose of 
nature which had endured for weeks. A thun- 
der-storm is pending, soon to rage in the air. 
Hell and all its furies seemed to have broken 
loose, and continued with unintermitting fury. 
A slender, youthful figure, a head crowned with 
beautiful gold-blonde braids, enjoyed this ; she 
had never known fear at such a storm, and had 
more than once been out in one and enjoyed 
the wetting to the skin which she gave herself. 
It is a rough evening, followed by a rougher 
night, this followed by a drizzly day. The rain 
pattered monotonously down — a rain like a 
gentle spring rain. Our young friend cannot 
resist the temptation, in the afternoon (when 
other ladies rest for awhile), to put on her long 
1 14 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


cloak and go for a run in the wood near. It will 
seem as if she was a child again, to shout and 
sing as loud as she used to at the old home. 

She is soon enveloped in her cloak, the hood 
drawn over her head, and, gliding down the 
back stairs (not the first back-stair glider, by 
any means), reaching the grounds at the rear 
of the house, she finds them deserted — no one 
to watch her movements. Making a long de- 
tour to avoid passing the front of the house, 
she sped off into the grove. Here only could 
she feel free, away from all eyes; here, in the 
woods, she could make the echoes ring with 
her songs and laughter. Oh, to sing as loud 
and laugh as long as she wanted to, with no 
one but God to hear! The wind, swaying the 
trees in the rain, shook the drops from their 
branches; she let her hood fall back, the drops 
cool her burning, happy face. She did not feel 
the drops in an unpleasant way; her hair, nat- 
urally wavy, soon hung in little tendrils around 
her face; if she had been vain she would have 
known how this lovely disorder of her hair 
only heightened the beauty of her complexion, 
which could not be improved by artificial 
means ; it needed only the rain to make it more 
brilliant. Her eyes were sparkling; she looked 
charming as only those can look who are truly 
115 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


children of nature, whose skins owe nothing 
to art, whose hair owes nothing to the hot iron. 
She felt as free, joyous, and fresh as if she had 
not lived in an excited state for so long; here 
she could sing and laugh at her own sweet 
will ; no danger of the dampness in her throat ; 
it belonged to a child of nature — a throat so 
healthy, it need not fear God’s rain or damp- 
ness. 

Why should we fear dampness for our 
throats, always be so careful of the cold? Can 
we tell why our throats are so weak? It is 
not the way God meant to be. 

Sisero listens and hears nothing but the rain 
and wind and the echo of her own voice. She 
is truly alone, and rushes along in her impetu- 
ous way for some time, and does not realize 
how far, until her clothes are so heavy with 
the rain that she cannot move as easily as she 
has done; she has taken no account of time; 
she has enjoyed the free feeling. She walks 
miles; then she suddenly notices it is not as 
light as at first. Is there a fiercer storm com- 
ing, or is it night? She looks at her watch 
and is surprised to see it is near nightfall, and 
darkness is coming on fast. She is the least 
bit afraid. Can she find her way back? She 
is tired, and wishes she was not quite so far 
116 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


from home, although she has no idea how far 
she is. She tries to retrace her steps, but has 
no idea which way to turn. She cannot stand 
still, so takes the direction which seems right 
to her. She does not know where she is or 
how far she is from where she started. At last 
she sees a light, and is in hopes it is from the 
house, but soon sees it is not; it shines from 
a hut, in the door of which stands an old 
woman. She does not feel any less afraid when 
she sees this hag, for such we must call her. 
She will put a bold face on, however, and ask 
her way. 

She goes to the door, and must go in, to 
satisfy the old woman. It is not the first time, 
we shall remember, that she has been to such 
a place. 

She learns that night something which would 
have saved her many a pang not to have known. 
The old woman finds out what house Sisero 
has come from, and seems to know others there, 
and vents her spite on our girl, little thinking 
what relation she bears to the one she is talking 
about. How the old woman knew what she 
tells we cannot answer; we only know she 
does this night what many an old hag has done 
before her, and in doing it ruins a young life 
in its love. 

117 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


Afterward Sisero thinks to herself : “ Oh ! if 
only I had not taken that walk in the rain.” 
For now, with her ideas of purity, morals, and 
goodness, she could not marry one whom she 
could not respect; and what she had heard had 
destroyed all that in her lover. She was not 
very far from the house, but it was not a part 
of the old woman’s pleasure to tell her that; 
no, it was food for her to make this high-bred 
girl bite the dust, as she expressed it. It was 
fun for her to fill the young and innocent ears 
with a something of which she had never 
dreamed. When she had quite crushed this 
young spirit, she was satisfied, and said, “ Fol- 
low me.” 

She led Sisero a long, circuitous walk, of 
which Sisero took no heed; she did not feel 
her wet clothes now, the torment in her mind 
was so much worse. She was soon where she 
knew the ground and within sight of the door 
out of which she had come so short a time 
before, although it seemed hours, so much mis- 
ery had been piled up for her in the time. She 
prayed the door might not be fastened; she 
hesitated to cross the yard for fear of meeting 
someone, which would be unbearable in her 
wretched state of mind ; but it must be done in 
order to reach the house. She ran to the door, 
118 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


which, by good luck, she found as she had left 
it, flew up the stairs, along the corridor toward 
her room, fortunately not meeting even a ser- 
vant. She was at last once more free from 
prying eyes and where she could indulge her 
grief. Her spirit and strength all gone, all 
dripping with the rain, she threw herself on 
the couch to cry out her misery. Why had 
she gone out? 

She loved her betrothed so madly, she would 
rather not have known this until too late to do 
any harm. Now, with her crushed ideals, how 
could she ever feel the same again? What a 
rude awakening to all her lovely dreams ! She 
not for one moment doubted the old woman’s 
word; she knew too little of life in its truest 
sense not to credit it all. 

She knew she had not time to solve the prob- 
lem; it was time to dress and go down to her 
friends. How could she do it? Her aunt 
would soon be looking for her; what excuse 
could she make for her tear-stained face? What 
could she do to her face to hide her tell-tale 
misery? She has never looked so strange to 
herself, but must pass the ordeal, and the sooner 
it is over the better. 

Her aunt saw something had happened, but, 
with infinite tact, turned the attention of the 
119 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


other guests, and soon all were chattering like 
magpies. Sisero dreaded to meet her lover, 
but, as good luck would have it, he was not 
in the room when she came down, so she had 
a little more time to compose her features. She 
felt frightfully miserable; she had had, until 
now, so little experience in the hard lines of 
this world. 

She waited in a nervous state the entrance 
of her lover; she did not know how she could 
meet his eyes after the blow she had received 
to her love and hopes; the offence was an un- 
pardonable one. Oh ! if she could sob out her 
grief alone! it was getting unbearable, being 
with people who were not interesting just now, 
even if they had been before the walk she had 
taken. She felt quite differently toward some 
now. From the garden rose the perfume from 
the flowers which had so delighted her until 
this evening; now the breath of the perfume 
was intoxicating, and overpowered her. Noth- 
ing looked right. Serene and bright, full of in- 
finite beauty and peace, lay the moonlight over 
all; the shadowy distance vanished in the blu- 
ish vapor. Dreamily the fountain murmured 
on the lawn, and a light which glittered through 
the drops on the trees made everything beauti- 
ful. It seemed so long to Sisero, this one half 


120 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


day. She finally can bear no more suspense, 
and goes to the piano and plays as she has 
never played before, for she must do some- 
thing, she is so tortured. She is so glad, so 
thankful to him for putting off their meeting. 
The room is not fully lighted, not all the guests 
are down. The moonlight hovers over the sea 
of tones which Sisero brings out of the instru- 
ment; it roars and raves as if the storm was 
not quite done. When have they heard her play 
like this? She likes, as a general thing, soft, 
harmonious melodies, but her mood until now 
has been harmonious; now it is like a tempest- 
uous sea. Now the melodies gush forth im- 
passioned, glowing, then all at once violently 
throbs between, sharp, dissonant, shrill dis- 
cords. Such tones seem to lend expression to 
whatever element slumbers in the breast of 
the one who is playing. First we hear the most 
beautiful passage, when suddenly it changes 
to horror — a shudder of pain; then a burst of 
delight, then a wild, tempestuous rush, from 
pleasure to pleasure, or from horror to horror — 
a quick change from feverish excitement to 
deathly weariness. There lay, indeed, years be- 
tween this mood of Sisero’s and the one she 
had been in before the awful thing came upon 
her. 

121 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


The room is at last brilliantly lighted; all 
the guests are down. She still plays on, and 
it sounds as if a storm raved over the keys — * 
wild, passionate, bacchantic; out of it rose first 
fury, then melody too sweet for mortal ears; 
now heart-rending agony, with restless, never- 
satisfied longing; then a burst as of fetters, 
chains. The instrument seems to express the 
whole happiness and woe of a human life; it 
utters an agonized, repressed yearning. It was 
understood by none; all felt the power, but 
none understood. They knew there was some- 
thing unearthly; for, when genius speaks, even 
the indifferent, superficial beings are suscep- 
tible to its spell. 

Never had Sisero sung better than when 
she at last burst into one of her saddest songs. 
The gifts of the singer, the voice and the dra- 
matic power, were blended. The breathless 
silence which followed endured for some sec- 
onds; no applause was heard; astonishment 
had taken its place. When had she sung in 
this way before? They were spellbound by 
what they had just heard. 

The pallor that rested on her face to-night 
made her more enchanting than ever. She 
dreaded the time when she must turn from the 
instrument and face them all; the strains which 


122 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


had swelled upward as if in wild, exultant de- 
light, or sunk in anguished lamentation, had 
told them little; her face might tell them more. 
She turns from the piano at last and faces them 
with smiles, but her manner is so much gayer, 
it has so false a tone, that all notice it. When 
at last the lovers get a chance to speak to each 
other, her hardest trial begins. Her lover tells 
her this gay manner becomes-her marvellously, 
but he does not understand what it is. She 
is not the girl he left so short a time before; 
he feels the difference. What had happened? 

“ I cannot tell you now or here,” said 
Sisero. 

She kept up her seemingly light-hearted role , 
and tried to look as if she enjoyed the puzzled 
look on her friends’ faces. 

Her young heart could not bear many hours 
of this strain; her lover’s dazed looks were 
worse, if that could be, than her false gayety. 
She would give him no satisfaction. 

She was alone at last, and could sob out her 
sorrow with no prying eyes. Great sobs, such 
as only come to the young, shook her slight 
frame. She is full of self-pity, running over 
with grief, that her dream has come to such 
an end, and so soon. Why had he done this 
wrong? Why had he allowed her to love him 
123 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


if he knew he was not worthy? Yes, why? Can 1 
any of us tell? Was Sisero being punished for 
some sin of omission or commission? Was 
it for this she had given her best love, her first 
love, giving her heart freely, repulsing every 
other suitor (and she had many)? She felt 
humiliated, and despair filled her young heart. 

“ I will go back to my home,” she said to 
herself. “ I shall have no heart for society after 
this, and soon have none for music, or music 
will be all my life.” 

Would it not have been better if she could 
have taken her lesson in smaller doses, and in 
that way have hardened? 

She still loved her betrothed so madly that 
had her ideas been less pure, her pride less 
strong, she must have forgiven all. 

She would not let her lover speak of the 
trouble the next morning; she could not bear 
it just yet, and the tears were too near to be 
kept back if very much was said. He felt she 
had no right to take this course, and that he 
was showing a weak side to his character not 
to come to an understanding. 

Every hour left a piece of Sisero’s heart 
behind; her future seemed without hope. She 
had been so happy and was now so miserable. 
Did the future hold anything different for her? 

124 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


could she ever believe again? Why had she 
been the one to love so madly and lose so 
completely? 

It was not long that she could sing. In her 
room she would now and then strike into such 
a burst of song, as a bird, which has been de- 
prived of liberty, set free, springs into the air; 
so Sisero spread her wings and let her voice 
soar, but only for a few bars; then, when her 
aunt would ask why she stopped, she would 
say she had miscalculated her strength. Her 
aunt waited for her to tell her trouble, but, al- 
though Sisero could cry and sob out her grief 
on her aunt’s neck, with her face close to the 
loved one, she could not bring her mind to 
the point of telling her aunt what troubled her. 
She was trying to solve the riddle alone. Her 
aunt knew nothing of the walk in the woods. 
Her lover begs of her to tell him what the 
trouble is, but she cannot think of telling him 
such a thing as she heard that afternoon; it 
is too low for her to speak of. 

She can finally bear no more, and they go 
away for awhile. Sisero tells her aunt enough 
so she can explain the trouble to her lover if 
she chooses. This her aunt does, and tells him 
he can write them, at the place they have de- 
cided to go, all about it, if he thinks best, and 
125 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


try to explain away this awful thing which is 
breaking Sisero’s heart. 

Sisero loves him too madly as yet to trust 
herself near enough to him to talk seriously; 
she has kept up, all these days, the frivolous, 
hollow manner which is so unlike her natural 
one. She can bear it no longer. 

Her aunt, when she hears the story from Sis- 
ero, does not look at it in quite the same light 
that Sisero does, and tries to tell her a few 
plain facts of the world and of the people in it; 
but Sisero does not in the least understand, and 
her aunt cannot bring herself to talk plainly 
enough so that she will, and thinks to herself, 
“ This child, so different in some ways from 
the rest of the world, is not meant to marry/’ 
and will go with her where they can both rest 
and wait to see what the outcome of all this 
trouble will be. 

She had tried to make this pure nature see 
things never meant for such a one to see or 
know. That she considered her duty; she 
could do no more, and would leave the rest to 
time and nature to soothe. 

This thing which Sisero had heard was true 
in a measure, but had happened years before. 
It was no more nor less than many another 
perfectly respectable man had done. 

126 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


The truths which were being brought home 
to him now might ruin his life. He cursed his 
folly, cursed what he called the natural conse- 
quence of young blood. 


127 






THE BLUE DAYS 
















VII. 

S ISERO thinks the fresh air of the fields 
will be charming after all the fever of 
the last days. It will soothe her spirit 
to get where all nature is true once 
more; she feels more and more that she was 
never born for an artificial life. 

Can one be true in anything but a true at- 
mosphere, surrounded by true people? She 
could feel warm with nature, even if those 
around her were cold and passive. This cold- 
ness, impassiveness, which sometimes strikes 
a chill to a warm heart, may not be natural ; it 
may have come through or from our environ- 
ment — a cold climate, perhaps, or a damp one ; 
poor, impoverished blood, or a mistaken idea 
that it is the thing which shows good blood. 
The repose we hear of may be becoming to 
some, but it makes others look so funny, as 
though it was not born with them, not a part 
of them — something quite foreign to their 
nature. 

131 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


Our two boon companions go where there 
is no danger of anything but sunny skies, and 
they entered for a few weeks a cool, calm shade 
in each other’s company; and the solitary life 
soothed and comforted Sisero and calmed her 
troubled spirit. She passed hours in shaded 
paths, in adored gardens, with her beloved 
books. Of an evening, as they walked, the 
breeze lifted the pretty hair from her forehead, 
and in a way chased away the sadness; even 
the stars comforted her, shining in their lumi- 
nous light. All seemed friends of the old world 
— a world which she had known before her tem- 
pest of joy, a world she had known before she 
had followed the silly flame of love only to be 
deluded; before sorrow had entered her heart 
and left it stranded. 

% The sun, glinting through the branches, 
played on the moss-covered rocks, the rays 
lengthening like golden ribbons under the feet. 
The silence in the forest and woods was de- 
lightful to her sore spirit. As she took her 
lonely walks, she breathed the pure air with 
delight; the great, motionless trees seemed to 
talk to her as of old. Was not this kind of 
a life what she was meant for, after all? 
Through the branches shone the sunlight, and 
the brightness seemed to her like a promise 
132 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of future happiness. Little by little a peace 
entered her heart, and for a few hours at a time 
her doubts, fears, and agitations would disap- 
pear completely. The blow she had sustained 
to her faith looked less real than it had seemed 
possible. 

Formerly, on her rambles through the forest, 
she had carried with her a whole brood of hopes 
and dreams, which she had given free flight 
over land and sea. Now the flight was bor- 
dered by a solid wall against which their wings 
beat in vain. Her destiny seemed fixed, her 
way hewn out of a different rock from the one 
she had looked at so long. Her path at times 
looked dreary and desolate, with little sun — 
empty and distasteful, as was quite natural ; she 
could not so soon forget the past. 

The slight air of sadness and melancholy 
was not unbecoming to her. She was spiritless 
and despondent; she had abdicated all hope, 
prematurely drained the chalice of bitter re- 
nunciation. One would never have recognized 
the quiet, self-possessed young person, who 
listened with such indifference to the chat and 
noise around her, as the bright and animated 
girl of such a short time before. To be left 
quiet was all she asked — and the companion- 
ship of the one who never failed. 

133 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


Many an hour have the two spent walking 
in the summer moonlight — a moon which is 
a few hours above the horizon, then sinks 
away, little in light, since the pale yellow beams 
do not illuminate as a brighter moon can. ' A 
ghostly air settles over the almost invisible 
landscape, a slight breeze stirs the leaves, there 
is an aroma of summer freshness, the grass is 
wet with dew, the twitter of a bird calling to 
his mate can now and then be heard. 

As it gets nearer morning, a soft, opal light 
hangs upon the horizon, the moon ceases to 
shine, and the deepest hush of the night settles 
over all. Soon the dim light shows the build- 
ings, which never look so foreboding as in this 
light. A little more time, and then comes the 
sound of a bird with its first morning song. 
Clear, soft, distinct, the notes rise and fall in 
the silence. It is surprising how far the sound 
travels. Similar sounds come now from the dis- 
tance, until the whole air is full of this contin- 
uous song; full, rich, and liquid the notes 
fall, while the bird feels himself monarch 
of all he surveys — the first light of the morn- 
ing. 

The stars have ceased to shine; one watch- 
dog, then another, lifts up his voice. It is a 
strange world, dim, silent, which unrolls itself 


134 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


before our eyes. Are we thankful enough for 
the beauty of it? 

On such a night as this the strangest feature 
is perhaps the almost complete absence of hu- 
man sound. If a belated traveller does walk 
or ride through the stillness, what a hushed 
feeling comes over him! 

As the light grows, the features of the land 
open out; as it ripens, the view enlarges. At 
last, away in the east, the fiery red rim of the 
sun shows above the horizon. 

Hour after hour Sisero dreams away, look- 
ing out at the night. She lives over all the 
pleasant, and not many of the unpleasant, hours 
of their love. She tries not to recall the sad 
part, but it will come back. The tears roll 
down her cheeks as her lover’s face comes be- 
fore her, and she thinks she shall never see him 
again. Old memories torment her heart and 
wound her anew — the uncertainty of her posi- 
tion, the unsettled feeling of waiting for some- 
thing, she hardly knows what. 

*• The lark swings up to the sun-flushed sky, 

And the meadows ring to the plover’s cry, 

Down in the thickets the thrushes sing 

And the hawk hangs high, on his pulseless wing. 

She witnesses all from day to day, 

Sweet and pure as the thrushes’ tune, 
i35 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


Bright and fair as a morn in June, 

Never a cloud on that fairy face, 

Never a shadow to mar its grace. 

Now her heart is cold with a nameless fear. 

Slowly rises a requiem hymn 

As the lady kneels in the chancel dim, 

The light of a love that lifts the heart 
From earth to the gates of heaven, 

When the pain is known 
At the great white throne 
And the past is cleanly shriven. 

The sting of a sin that hurls the soul 
From life to the floor of hell, 

Though the sin be sure 
If the love endure ; 

There is truth in the tale I tell.” 


136 


VIII. 

H E took his pen and wrote steadily; 

his hand did not shake; he covered 
sheet after sheet of paper. His 
words were bright, no shadow of 
gloom in them; he was sure he could make it 
all right. He was full of the anticipation of 
pleasure in the coming reunion. The writing 
of this letter was in some respects one of the 
hardest tasks he had ever done; and when he 
thought it might not make everything right, 
might not pull down the barriers between them, 
great drops stood on his forehead. He could 
not bear it that way; it must be all well with 
them; it must not — this little thing (or so it 
had heretofore looked to him) — part two who 
were so madly in love with each other. He 
wrote : 

“ I will not think of saying good-by to all 
my hopes and dreams. This must carry con- 
viction with it that I am not so very far wrong. 
I will not give you up for a fault which has 
137 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


been condoned years ago. You must hear my 
story and forgive me seventy times seven, if 
necessary. I hope what I say in this may soft- 
en any pang your love may have suffered. I 
will not tell you again how I love you; you 
know all that. I can gauge my love for you 
by no standard; I think there is nothing which 
could probe it to its depths. I may have been 
a sinful man, in your eyes, but I think God 
will forgive me one thing, if only one, and that 
is the part of my life of which I am going to 
tell you. Take me back after reading this; 
it has been wrung from a tortured and mad- 
dened heart. Why can you not try to over- 
look one more crime (if it looks like that to 
you) committed in youth, and for which I have 
spent months in expiation? How happy it will 
make me to overthrow your prejudices! You 
are not quite fair not to give me a hearing; but 
I live in hopes this sad task for me will be' 
kindly received, and that it will make all right 
once more. May the clouds which have settled 
over our horizon lift. And I hope there may 
be no more in our lives, and that our union 
may be blessed with a love which few are able 
to feel. 

“ The home of the Lyndes is situated in the 
county of Cheshire, England. It stands on land 
138 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


a few hundred feet above the level of the sea. 
The land of the park is undulating and about 
nine miles in circumference. 

“ Of the ancient home where I was born I 
will say little ; the architecture bears several dif- 
ferent dates, which show the tastes of genera- 
tions of Lyndes. There are all styles of mull- 
ioned windows; the house is of the grayest 
stone, in places covered with vines and moss. 
From such a home my brother and I agreed to 
go for a few years and see as much of the world 
as we could in the time. Shortly we set sail 
for Australia. No two happier boys ever start- 
ed out, or ever walked the deck of the steamer, 
or lay with shoulders resting, staring at the 
stars. At each splash of the water, as the ship 
rocked on the waves, we breathed a sigh of 
content. We shift our position occasionally 
to make terms with sleep. At night we watch 
the slow procession of the stars, the fleck and 
shiver of brightness. We smoke and dream. 
We have left the land of our birth, and although 
we think that it may be at the head of the pro- 
cession of civilized nations, we have not had 
the freedom or ability to go abroad for enjoy- 
ment many times; so it will be new, and, 
we hope, delightful. We have not had the 
high pressure of nervous work, but have had 
139 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


the low pressure of bad climate and an inani- 
mate life. We may have had a general content 
with our condition heretofore, but are eager to 
begin anew a life not really begun. 

“We have seen a country of great beauty — 
lovely English landscape, green fields, dark- 
er green woods, gardens of the most brilliant 
hues, fine figures, fresh complexions, animated 
spirits. We have roamed this country over 
for years, walked on terraces shaded and 
turfed, been where one cannot help notice the 
high civilization of all functions, the good order 
of all arrangements. 

“We have enjoyed with abandon, without li- 
cense, the pretty shaded reach of the Thames 
at Henly. On the banks, on regatta days, the 
spectators line the shore. The club-tents, the 
house-boats, the small rowing-craft — there is 
no more animated and jolly crowd in the world, 
even if it rains as it can rain in no other place. 
The people of that country look better in a rain 
than most countries, for they prepare for rain 
and look better in consequence; in fact, look 
better on all days on the street, for their clothes 
(for women) are plainer, shorter, and more 
comfortable in all ways. Henly days are days 
of junketing and jollity. 

“ My four years at Cambridge I look back 
140 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


on with pleasure. Now clean-blooded muscle 
called for something better worth than the life 
I had been living and was leaving. So, in spite 
of dissuasions from all sides, we started with 
the tide of adventure then flowing toward Syd- 
ney. My life of leisure had begun to disgust 
me. I was in hopes labor would delight. I 
had been used to the smooth side of life; I 
would get used to the rough. I hoped to like 
it. My quiet hardihood and sledge-hammered 
fists had pulled me through my tender days. 
I hoped they would be of use to me in days 
of a different calibre. Thinking and dreaming, 
we drifted on toward what was to me full of 
visions too bright to last — an untried life. Time 
and rough days made only surface changes. 

“ In a year’s time I was bronzed, bearded, 
broader than before, but still a boy. The de- 
vious ruts of trade had not wrenched the wagon 
wheels of my honesty, but they had made me 
a cautious driver. I knew more in many ways 
than when I started from home, but knew 
there were many things to learn, and also knew 
that I knew less when I started from home 
than I had thought I did. I had not been long 
in the land of my adoption before the question 
of marrying was proposed to me at least once 
every day. No native (or man with the nature 
14 1 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


which belongs to a native) seemed to think 
a single man could or would stay single long. 
Even if he did not marry, there were ways of 
taking girls off their fathers’ hands, or those 
who took what little care of them they had, 
which was not much. 

“ I turned with disgust from the unnatural 
arrangement which was proposed to me every 
day; for many a poor girl at this time 
was being brutally disposed of. I had many 
offered me. I felt like choking the breath out 
of such beasts. True, the concern need not 
be one of mine; men sold their flesh and blood 
every day, and not alone in this place. One 
cannot run a knife through every villanous 
barter in flesh and blood. And yet the unnat- 
ural arrangement was revolting. I might have 
to make it my business. 

“ Some of the victims to lust and wickedness 
only showed their blood in their hair, rich skin, 
and unfathomable eyes. They grow up with 
no good influences, no caution of the world’s 
awful ways, no good example. There is about 
many of them a quaint, feverish mixture of 
shyness and passion. 

“ One in particular seemed more shy than 
was the nature of most of them ; she often fled 
from the traders who invaded her father’s 


142 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


house. I knew her father was trying to sell 
her body and soul; he was no more brutal 
than many another with whom I had to deal; 
but the girl had more beauty, and all that the 
man possessed must bring money, gold, in one 
way or another. I came upon her one day 
leaning against a thin partition of the room 
next the one where her father was bartering 
her life away to the worst brute God ever made ; 
leaning against the wall as though to draw 
through it the sound of their words, her palms 
spread out on the boards, her little head thrown 
back, intent, the splendid outline of her chest 
rising and falling in deep-drawn excitement. 
I stepped upon the veranda and into the room 
where the two brutes were trading in human 
flesh. I could not keep down the disgust and 
pity I felt; it filled my heart. I said to her 
father: 

“ * You’ve sold your own flesh and blood to 
a dog, more shame to you. I’ll give you more 
than he offered/ 

“ Her father said: ‘You’ve come to your 
senses speedy, haven’t you, young man? I 
heard nothing of this when you were here 
last.’ 

“ I said to him : ‘ Say this infernal deal is off, 
and the girl free to go where she likes.’ 

M3 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ The bargain was soon concluded. I turned 
and went down the steps, and through a tangle 
of brush, not really knowing just what the con- 
sequences of my rash act would be. As I went 
from the house I saw the girl, who had heard 
all, leaning against a tree, and, with her head 
thrown back, was looking at me in a wistful, 
surprised way; a look of one abandoned to her 
fate — to a fate worse than death. She made 
a sudden movement with her arm to stop me, 
then it dropped by her side. She could not 
understand why I left her, having bought her. 
I had forgotten she understood the laws of her 
own country only. There is no truer saying 
than ‘ He who hesitates is lost/ 

“ The girl, seeing me hesitate, and taking it 
for consent to her coming with me, sprang to 
me with a pathetic friendliness and a warmth 
which warned me of my new responsibility and 
trouble. 

“ ‘ Well, child/ I said, gently, ‘ you will not 
be married to-morrow/ 

“ ‘ Don’t/ she said, and her head sank lower. 
I realized now what I had done. I found the 
child, as I had called her, was a woman — a 
woman, but with a girl’s grace still in her 
limbs. She looked at me with loving eyes, 
and pointing back toward her father’s house, 


144 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


‘He’s a devil,’ she said, very low; ‘will you 
leave me to such a fate? ’ 

“ I felt my heart sink. I knew what her fate 
must be, even if I had bought her. Figures be- 
gan to show in the darkness of the house doors 
when I suggested her going back for the night, 
as though they were watching to see what we 
were going to do. I told her in the morning 
I might know better what I wanted to do. 

“ ‘ I can’t go back,’ she said, and shook her 
head. ‘ No! rather die here! ’ 

“ For another instant I debated in my mind 
what was best to do. I knew it was possible 
even now for the father to find infamous humor 
in polluting the girl’s purity with the profligate 
caresses of the man I had left in his house. 
I still stared into the night. I could not do 
this thing, which had looked so horrible to me 
in others — a thing I had sworn not to do. I 
at last laid down my arms of old principles, 
old ideas of right and wrong. I found no solu- 
tion to my trouble in the blue vault above or 
the sandy soil beneath. I could see the white 
arms of the girl in the dim light. The pale 
light of the moon touched her face. I spoke 
her name. 

“ ‘ Yes/ came the answer, with a frightened 
sigh, ‘ shall I die? ’ 


145 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ 4 No! ’ I said. The spell of her innocence 
and the charm which the night casts over some 
things carried me out of my true self, and I was 
done with excuses for awhile. 

“ 4 Child! Child! ’ I whispered, ‘ you know 
not what you are doing. How dare you do it? 
I tried to save you from a devil, and am going 
to make one of myself/ 

“ 4 Only that? ’ she breathed. Her hair had 
a flower in it, and as we walked along the per- 
fume came to me like the spicy odor which 
the night air brings to flowers. ‘ Only that? ’ 
she said again, and shivered as she spoke. 

Little one/ I said, slipping my arm around 
her, 4 I came back to do for you ; I will do for 
you whatever seems the best/ 

“ 4 Can we go far from here? ’ she whispered, 
wistfully. I drew her closer and wrote the an- 
swer on her cheek. She took love’s answer as 
trustfully as an oath. She was as oblivious 
of harm and my tremblings for right and 
wrong as a new-born babe. 

“ Sinned I have, and I know it; but let my 
love atone for it. 

44 Let love be a carpet over which our feet 
can walk; let us hide all imperfections in love. 
Perfection there is none; let us exercise love 
and charity. Oh ! my love, forgive me a youth- 
146 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


ful folly, for folly it was as I look at it now. 
I did what seemed best at the time. I was 
little more than a boy in years. I started out 
with theories, but my environment was so dif- 
ferent from what I had been used to. I felt 
that the worst thing was giving pain to one 
who had done no harm. One other excuse I 
will offer : Man will do differently in a country 
of that kind — or, to put it in another way, in 
some parts of any country — from what he will 
in the other; he will do very much as others 
do where he is, and if there is little restraint 
in some things, he will let things take their own 
course. The rough life I had courted had not 
been just what I needed to make me a better 
man, surely. I felt at times that my tempta- 
tions had not been quite fair to me. My life 
had been a strange mixture, the variety of 
which had done me no good. I had started out 
to be amused, I ended with being disgusted. 
The beauty of the country I could not see. The 
reeds and the rushes were as green, the sound 
of the birds filled the air with as sweet a song. 
At times there was a peace and silence not to 
be found elsewhere, which I loved, but none 
of it could I see after living, for ever so short 
a time, the life I had not planned for myself. 

“ There are times when nothing but a forci- 
147 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


ble break in the current of our lives can restore 
the mind to its normal balance. Such a break 
had come to me; instead of feeling the shock, 
I was relieved to see I still had left a horror 
of doing a thing I would be ashamed to have 
my family know. I felt amazed to think I had 
settled it with my conscience so readily, and 
had been doing for a few weeks just what I had 
condemned in others so bitterly. I had not 
cared to throw off the responsibility for awhile ; 
and there had been a sense of relief to think 
so many thousand miles separated me from all 
who might have found flaws in my daily life. 

“ My life had not been a perfect Eden on 
earth, although some may have thought so. 
After all my fine ideals, it began to look to me 
as though I had taken a short cut to just the 
same life I had condemned so strongly in oth- 
ers. Several months passed, bringing changes 
in one way and another. I knew I could never 
make the girl (who has lived with me as many 
another has lived with a man) full reparation; 
I could never take her with me to my home. 
Days and nights succeeded each other; time 
was not mending my ways. My days were full 
of work, my nights of rest and peace at first — 
night that covereth up the staring wastes with 
a soft, dark robe. Overhead the stars shine; 

148 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


scarce a sound is heard on the silent air; for 
good or bad, another day has passed eternally 
and left its record to be writ in the world’s an- 
nals. At such hours, as I lie awake thinking 
of my once rigid views in the time that is past, 
of what I am allowing myself to do now, I 
resolve before another nightfall to break off 
this life which has so soon lost all its charms. 

“ I could not keep it from my mind that this 
thing would look quite differently in a more 
civilized country. There was a continual fight 
in my mind over what I was allowing myself to 
do; I was never sure whether right or wrong 
would conquer. I have made the mistake; I 
acknowledge it. But ‘ the man who never 
makes mistakes never makes anything else 
either/ It is one of those hideous mistakes 
which one remembers all through life with a 
sudden rush of warm shame and self-con- 
tempt. 

“ No one whose heart is pure can realize the 
depths of evil of which the human soul is ca- 
pable, or the strength of the devil when he is 
opposed by the feeble will of man only. 

“ The fires of earthly passion will never again 
burn for that woman in the dead cinder of my 
heart, for she is dead; she died with a mind as 
pure as a babe. 


149 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ Only in the heart does every storm of pas- 
sion leave irremediable ruin behind. 

“ The oblivion which all welcome nightly 
falls on the just as well as on the unjust. Slum- 
ber puts its seal on many records of shame, and 
releases the conscience from its Ixion wheel. 
It may be a shameful thing to replace one af- 
fection by another, yet it is done every day. 
Man must love, and so must woman. You 
cannot guess the depth of my love, since yours 
fails at the first strain put upon it. No crime 
that you could commit could turn my heart 
from you. It will be yours while life and 
thought remain to me. 

“ Some of my life seemed a prison from 
which there was no escape. As I looked at 
the black faces of the men and women, the 
white teeth and almost naked bodies of the al- 
most savage people, the eyes of wilder cattle, 
all eyes seemed to reproach me for the life I 
was leading; the very trees seemed to thrust 
out their branches at me, seeking to catch and 
strangle me in a relentless grip. I could not 
turn my glance away. I had not looked for 
anything to fill up my life, but it had come; 
it had filled a place, and was running over my 
cup of sorrows or horrors. I had overestimated 
my strength of character when I came to this 


150 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


country to live. At last it was in vain that I 
tried to reason with myself; in my own opin- 
ion I was the most ordinary scoundrel; the bad 
and good in me seemed to have been thorough- 
ly mixed. Trusting eyes were turning to dis- 
trustful ones, the gentle voice at times full of 
tears. I made a promise in a weak moment, 
the consequences of which I shall never over- 
come, and which would have been much better 
broken. 

“ I got to that state when the air I breathed 
seemed polluted, and I was filled with regrets. 
I must change my whole life; it was not pos- 
sible longer to go on this way. I had in a 
weak moment sealed my fate, but with God’s 
help I would put an end to it all. 

“ I would no longer be a coward, no longer 
tolerate this thing in myself. I knew, in trying 
to do for the poor girl who had put such faith 
in me, I had in no way done right by myself. 
I had fallen by too weak a nature and pity; 
I now longed to get back a little of my self- 
respect and leave the evil ways of this country. 
My good birth seemed to have been a mere 
accident, for, had it done me any good, blood 
had not told a very good story in this instance, 
surely. 

“ The one who daily appealed to me for guid- 

151 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


ance and sympathy was getting to be a burden. 
I laid plan after plan, each in its turn discarded 
as too unfeeling; she would hear of nothing 
which would separate us — no school or going 
away for anything. She was fretted and wor- 
ried to think I wanted to get away from her, 
and at last her weak nature could bear no more 
and she was taken sick. A long illness reduced 
her to a shadow and robbed her of her strength 
and beauty. When at last she was able to be 
drawn out on to the veranda in the sun, I was 
shocked at the change. 

“ I had not been abl^to bring her, with her 
half-savage nature, to my way of thinking; and 
it was killing her in consequence. 

“ When we think that it takes generations of 
educated people to make a gentleman or lady, 
can we expect to make over a half-savage creat- 
ure in months or years? I could not convince 
one born and reared in that atmosphere of the 
wrong of something she had always been used 
to, or make her willing to do anything which 
would only bring sorrow to her. I was only 
one more tired of a toy which could not please 
an educated man long. 

“ No matter what plan I tried to talk of, the 
answer was always that she would rather be a 
white man Lubra than anything else; it was 
152 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


what she had been born to, and why had I 
bought her and taught her to love me, only to 
turn her off? 

“ At last nothing would cheer her drooping 
spirits; and knowing the people of the country, 
I was fearful she might do herself some harm. 
I often found her lying back in her chair with 
closed eyes; she neither moved nor spoke for 
hours. The sun’s rays streamed across her 
face; the fresh air blew her pretty hair, and 
waved the curtains of the window at her back ; 
the flies buzzed; no other movement or noise 
was there. She would lie like one dead. I 
know now her heart was breaking. I would 
say to her: 

“ ‘ You look better; you will soon be as 
strong as ever.’ She would slowly shake her 
head and say: “ ‘ No, I do not want to.’ 

“ A silence had come upon her, a restraint 
upon me. The expression of her countenance 
made me feel uneasy. The girl was superior 
to the blacks around her, her face more beauti- 
ful, her limbs cleaner cut; her dark eyes and 
beautiful hair gave her an attractive appear- 
ance ; her teeth were even and white, her laugh, 
of old, musical; she seldom laughed now. It 
was being brought home to me day by day the 
mistake I had made. 


153 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“We all have days put down in our mem- 
ories that we can never repent of sufficiently — 
days which must come to us as we get older, 
which we would give our whole life to live over 
again. I had fallen from my standard. There 
are some things a woman cannot forget. I 
could not make the girl see I had wronged her; 
the way she looked at it, all the wrong I could 
do her was to leave her. 

“ I have owned to the most shameful act. 
I knew in the beginning the shame and degra- 
dation, even if the girl had been a willing vic- 
tim — nevertheless a victim. She sat dry-eyed 
and sad; she shed few tears at the last; her 
grief was beyond that manifestation of it. The 
afternoons wore on; the shadows crept up and 
night came upon them. I was full of anxiety. 
I felt the end was not far off, but what would 
it be? She looked at me with such dumb mis- 
ery. It came at last — the awful thing I had 
dreaded, feared. 

“ Things had been no worse this day, but 
when night came on, it was depressing and 
sultry. I went to bed as usual, and know not 
what wakened me; but toward midnight I was 
startled by a dream, or something worse. I 
jumped from my couch and saw I was alone. 
Where had the girl gone? When had she 
154 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


risen? I ran to the door; all nature was still 
and beautiful; everything breathed peace and 
happiness and rest — to all but me. As I looked 
at the beauties of nature about me, it seemed 
an idle mockery. Our one black servant sat 
outside, and, when I asked, said: 

“ ‘ Lubra gone dat way,’ and pointed toward 
the water. I asked if she had said anything, 
and the black said : 

“ * Lubra say you have deceive her/ 

“ I ran down the path to the water’s edge; 
the wind blew soft and balmy, the sky was clear; 
high, black-colored rocks rose frowningly on 
the opposite side of the river; mosses and wild- 
flowers of many colors grow in every crevice 
and fissure; long, trailing creepers clung about 
the huge bowlders, like a fringe of many 
colors. What I thought I should find I know 
not; we had spent many hours on the water 
and around it, and, hoping against hope that 
I might find nothing worse than a despondent 
girl, who, perhaps not being able to sleep, had 
strolled down to the water’s edge, thinking per- 
haps to cool her brow in the water or fan it 
with the sweet night air. I call again and 
again — no answer. I sit down and wait, it 
seems hours; fall asleep and dream the most 
unearthly things. When at last I awake, the 
i55 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


pale moon makes a ghastly reflection over all, 
or is it the ghastly mood in which I find myself 
which colors all for me quite a different color 
from what the nights have been? I look 
around; everything reflects a face which 
has troubled me for a long time; I look 
carefully and see no face. No; this is an awful 
mood in which I find myself; I must throw 
it off. I need not let a pale moonlight make 
me so pale that I can feel the paleness. I will 
take one more look around and go back to 
my couch, if not to sleep. I look across the 
stream and see something floating down. I 
lose sight of it again and again, and I know not 
why it seemed to fascinate me. What was I 
looking for? this may be a stick or log; it 
floats nearer and looks strangely white. It 
comes nearer the shore; perhaps I can reach 
it as it passes by and satisfy my curiosity, if 
nothing more. My God! can it be an arm 
which shines so deathly white in this light? 
As it comes nearer with the current of the river, 
I can see a face which strikes a chill to my heart. 
I know there is no use to call her name now, 
but cannot keep it from my lips, and the hoarse 
whisper I give does not seem at all as if I 
had spoken; and I look around in a guilty 
way, fearing I know not what. I cannot speak 
156 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


aloud. I try to call to the black, but it seems 
as if the muscles of my throat are dead. I lean 
down on the little wharf to try and reach this 
awful thing which is being brought home 
to me in a different way from what I expected. 
The next instant the dead girl is within reach, 
and, leaning over, I slip my arm beneath the 
body and lift it out of the water; the strain has 
been more than I can bear, and I am not re- 
sponsible for a little while. When I do come 
to my senses I feel as if it might be better to 
plunge in, too, for I have not made a success 
of my life here in this country. Would it pay 
to try another? 

“ ‘ Child! Child! ’ I whisper, ‘ how did you 
dare? ’ 

“ She looked strangely calm and peaceful. 
Was she not the better off of the two? I shiv- 
ered as I looked at the beautiful girl as she lay 
before me in the long, sleeveless chemise which 
clung to her wet body and shone in the moon- 
light with such a strange, statuesque beauty. 

“ I took off my coat and covered her dead 
body, jumped into my boat, which was fastened 
to the ring in the landing, and lying down in 
the bottom of the boat, floated out into the 
water, hoping I know not what. It was still 
some hours before dawn; the blue vault above 


i57 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


me and the blue depth beneath had the desired 
effect — that of soothing my hot temples so I 
could think. I felt oppressed and as if swing- 
ing over an abyss of shame. After long staring 
into the night, I knew something must be done. 
I could no longer leave the dead girl lying 
where either dogs or some wild animal might 
finish up the work I had begun; for did she 
not belong to me? had I not bought her? I 
must do the work left me while free from the 
beating sun. The wind had gone down ; there 
was not a breath of air stirring; it was even 
more silent than when I went out — a silence 
which comes over certain hours of the night. 
I got out of the boat more of a coward than 
ever. How could I pass that dead thing? It 
must be done. 

“ I went up that same path, where I had gone 
in all kinds of weather. There was in my mind 
the thought that perhaps it would have been 
better to have let the kind, false life go on 
rather than such an end with the cruel truth. 
The black was sitting just where I had left 
him. I said to him, 4 Follow me,’ and to- 
gether we lifted the ghastly burden and carried 
it to a shaded grove at the back of the house, 
and laid the poor girl (with no more ceremony 
than that kind of woman generally gets) where 
158 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


she would be at peace and rest, where she 
would have no more heartaches. 

“ However excellent my morals may have 
been months before, I felt at this time there 
was very little left. I had not taken into ac- 
count the moral atmosphere of this place when 
coming here, not knowing it. Those who are 
deemed less virtuous than ourselves may have 
an excuse; we have none if we know the laws 
of morality and virtue. This race of people 
did not include fidelity among their virtues. 

“ I know now I had started out knowing 
very little of any country but my own; had 
been influenced by the idea of not having to 
sacrifice that slight and fragile thing, the good 
opinion of society, in seeking my own personal 
happiness. I had been once more let loose with 
my passions. 

“ I had found a bright, lovable, if slightly 
shallow, ignorant girl, who knew no other way 
than to live with and do for the one who was 
kindest to her. My own heart is bitter against 
myself; others will be bitter against me; some 
are bitter anyway. I care not for those. My 
remorse comes through the suffering I caused 
that dead girl. The picture I have drawn may 
be repulsive; it is not mercilessly brutal. Does 
that make it any better? It may arouse pity 
159 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


for such poor girls, such luckless women; the 
most of them need it not ; they know no other 
way; they are born and bred that way. 

“No one can blame a girl who has no breed- 
ing in her favor. But what can we say of one 
who has both birth and breeding, and an en- 
vironment of the best, if she goes the same 
melancholy way of her less fortunate sister? 
The story of the poor, misguided creature is 
pathetic enough. The poor girl I left sleeping 
had not much to answer for after a short life 
of fitful fever. She is better off in her bed by 
the side of the river of silvery purple; but it 
does not ease my conscience or make me feel 
any better, when I look back, to think she was 
fitted for no other life. One wave after another 
dashes against the rocks of my faith; my hopes 
only swell to be disappointed. I have lived to 
repent my rash act, my premature judgment; 
my bitter reflections are incomparable. 

“ * Love rules the court, the camp, the grove 
And earth below, and heaven above.’ 

“We will leave this poor girl where no other 
can harm her. As far as she knew, she led 
a life morally faultless; she could not be taught, 
in the short time, virtues which it takes years 
or generations for others to learn, and which 
160 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


do some little good when learned. She was 
neither cold, rational, nor intellectual; if she 
had little virtue, she had no vices. 

“ All this I have written without show of 
misery (a luxury to some), but to tell the tale. 
Surely I have repented long ago. And now, 
my darling, have you never thought of the 4 joy 
in heaven over one sinner that repenteth ’? I 
must say what I can in self-defence. I have 
strayed from the paths of righteousness, but 
have done what I could in expiation. You 
know nothing but truth and constancy. I have 
said I loved you, and would love you to my 
life’s end, and so I shall, so help me God! 
You can never understand what agonies I have 
suffered through the punishment you have 
given me. I have spent hours in telling you 
how it all came about. Oh! my darling, say 
you forgive me; don’t break my heart by your 
silence or by your reproaches. Give me a kind, 
forgiving word; in the life before me I shall 
have enough to bear. 

44 When I think of our happy hours and of 
your lovely face, it maddens me — the longing 
to hold you in my arms, once more to rain 
kisses on your lovely eyes and lips, to call you 
mine, my own, even if a hundred dishonor- 
able acts barred the way. I hope my misery 
161 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


will not haunt your life. Do not kill the best 
part of me. Whatever happens in the future 
lies at your door. Let us stand once more 
face to face, soul to soul. Let us not make 
a shipwreck of two young, despairing lives. 
Pity me! God knows I need it! As I think 
of the grace of your lovely figure around which 
the soft folds of your white gowns fell, I almost 
go mad to think of what has come between us. 
If I have not been particularly good in your 
eyes, I have tried to be for your sake; and if 
my anchor is taken away I care not for the con- 
sequences. I have not been blameless, but 
have not been false to you. I could wish you 
knew my nature better. Is the one great error 
of my life to be ever demanding expiation, com- 
pensation? 

“ My heart chills for a moment when I think 
this awful thing may come to pass, then leaps 
up and beats with a sudden vivid emotion, 
which fills my veins with fire when I know it 
will not be. You must take me back; I will 
not be turned off for such an old offence. 

“ When I think you may forgive me, my 
heart beats with a rapturous delight soon to 
be followed by a sudden dread in the thought 
that you may not. The moon is shining clear 
and brilliant in the sky above, and streams over 
162 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


the flowers which grow beneath my window. 
As I go and lean out, to let the wind fan my 
hot and troubled brow, the night is full of a 
beauty and fragrance; it brings back our walks 
and talks, and acts like a spell. I wait and 
listen, and it seems as if I hear music. Oh! to 
hear once more your lovely voice. 

“ I can say no more. Let me not get the 
words, 4 Let us part friends.' With us it can 
be nothing of that kind — no platonic friend- 
ship; either love or hate. I will not live to 
see you the wife of another; or close friend of 
another, not being my wife. I must be all or 
nothing. When we met and loved, the secret 
of two hearts was revealed as clearly and dis- 
tinctly as if a trumpet-blast had shouted it to 
our ears. 

“ While we were in each other’s company, 
senses, feelings — all were lulled to a strange 
repose, this to be followed with a rapturous 
ecstacy. The memory of the happy times, the 
perfect melody of our souls, is with me still. 

“ I have the right to a hearing, the right 
of one who has loved a woman with the truest, 
fondest love of which man is capable. Fate 
threw you across my path ; if we are separated, 
I will say, cursed be Fate! Is my life to be 
spoiled from this time? 

163 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ I never think of our few short, happy 
weeks, that I don’t think what a completion 
our lives, lived in the highest sense of the 
word love, might be; and the longing in my 
soul drives me mad. 

“ Nothing would keep me from ending my 
life, here and now, if I for one moment could 
think you would be cruel ; and it would be cruel 
as the grave. I am young, rich, with the world 
before me, but shall end all unless I can spend 
the rest of my life at your side; for of what use 
will it be to live years with no incentive for 
work, no ambition? 

“ It is a mistake to think people are either 
very good or very bad in this world. Only 
too often is there a mixture of both good and 
bad in the character; and circumstances throw 
the weight the wrong way. It is hard to be 
judged by a second person. No one can un- 
derstand the secret springs — that inner mech- 
anism which moves another to do certain 
things; no one understands the impulses of 
another. That one uncertain but mad act of 
mine may spoil the rest of my life. A kindly 
feeling had to be withstood or yielded to. I 
yielded, and now it is too late to cover or pass 
over a thoughtless act in the beginning, a 
wicked one in the continuation.” 

164 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


The radiance of a summer dawn, beautiful 
even in a great city, is over all the sky. A faint 
breeze rustles the trees; the birds sing and 
chirp among boughs that are moist with the 
night’s rain; a tender, freshening shower has 
fallen scarce an hour before. The tired eyes 
of a young man look at it all, and a sigh parts 
his lips. The cool, fresh air blows over his 
brow, but it does not still its aching. His 
whole soul is hardened and bitter. His heart 
got not the answer it craved. 

“ There are so many women in this world,” 
he says, as he continues his restless pacing. 
“ So many that are beautiful and young and 
easy to win; and yet all my life is but a longing 
for one who could, but will not, be so much to 
me. Why is Fate so hard? I will not think 
it must all end this way. I will see her again ! ” 

He little thinks how it will be. 


165 




THE RED DAYS 












V 





IX. 


“ Is it not then more right 
To judge, if judge we must, on mercy’s side? ” 

A PTER a storm comes a calm. It 
Zjk seemed as if a calm, the calm of a 
JL jL. great despair, had settled on Sisero. 

Her life looks gray, colorless as an 
autumn sky that has known no sunshine. 
There is something in this dull stupor that will 
keep the sharpness of pain down. This is a 
place to sleep and dream in, she says to her- 
self. Then the restless spell comes over her, 
and there is no rest for either of them. Her 
Aunt Ruth sees how pale and thin she is get- 
ting, how weary and sleepless her eyes look. 
She dashes the tears from her eyes and tries 
to look happy while with her aunt, for she does 
not want to make both their lives a burden. 
At times her cheeks are flushed and her eyes 
burn with a feverish brilliancy; her soft, snowy 
robes make her beauty more fair, more young, 
more pathetic. Her friends try to have her go 

169 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


where the lights sparkle, where there is mu- 
sic, where there are other fair faces, lovely 
toilets ; but she does not care for a crowd. The 
fountain, throwing silver sprays, which makes 
the white statue gleam through the foliage, has 
no charm for her. There seems nothing which 
will hold her attention long; and at last they 
go to her aunt’s old home, where we find her 
in the'first hour of the morning. 

A delicious gleam of sunshine streams 
through the curtained windows, flickers over 
the dainty arrangement of the toilet-table, loses 
itself in the white wonders of lace and linen. 

A pretty head on the pillow ; closed eyelids, 
in a very lovely face. The eyelids open quite 
suddenly; the sun has played hide and seek 
over her face as long as it dares. The white 
arms are thrown over her head ; no more sleep 
for her — and her sleep has been so sweet on 
this her first night in the old home; now, she 
thinks to herself, perhaps I can be content. 

The aspect of the weather is all one can de- 
sire, if the sunbeams are any sign. The things 
are past and done forever which have been 
making her so unhappy for a little while; it is 
so long now since she has heard from him. 

“ I will put all such thoughts from me this 
fine day, and try to make aunt happy, even if 
170 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


I am not so. She must be out of all patience 
with me by this time.” She breaks off with 
a sudden sigh and sits up in bed, pushing her 
hair back from her brow with an impatient 
gesture. “ It is no use trying to deceive my- 
• self, I do care very much; but I must throw 
it off. How oddly one drifts into things at 
times. I do not understand it myself. I wish 
I did. Heigho! only a month since, and so 
much has happened. Shall I go over it all? 
Can I not keep it from my mind? I wonder 
if I am really cold-hearted.” A sleepy little 
yawn overtakes her soliloquizing, and the 
pretty head sinks back for another nap — one 
of those cat naps we hear of, perhaps. The 
head nestles itself among the pillows again, 
but it is of no use to woo sleep any longer; 
the brain is too busy. Sisero sits up and 
stretches her arms over her head; she is sick 
of this. Presently a knock is heard, and her 
maid enters and draws up the shades. Left 
alone again for a few moments, she opens her 
letters, hoping, yet dreading to look at them. 
But a sigh of relief comes from her lips when 
she sees the fatal one is not there. It is a relief, 
for she is trying to forget. She tosses all aside, 
and is soon in her bath, and later is standing 
in front of her mirror in a loose white dressing- 
171 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


gown, her lovely hair hanging loosely about 
her. The door opens again to show us a hand- 
some woman, with sufficient likeness to the girl 
for us to know who she is. There is a little 
more tenderness in one face than the other, 
perhaps, but both are noticeably handsome 
women. 

“ Up and ready to dress, my darling? ” she 
says, 'in clear, sweet tones. She comes to the 
girl and kisses both cheeks. “ Will you come 
to my room for breakfast?” she says. “You 
look well, but a trifle pale; a little more color, 
a little more gladness, a little less wistfulness, 
and we have our girl back again.” 

The clear, creamy skin shows the blood 
plain enough now, as it flows beneath. It 
warms now to a brilliant flush as Sisero meets 
her aunt’s eye. She says : 

“ Whom do you think I had a letter from 
this morning? An old friend of ours.” 

Her aunt hopes it is not from the only one 
who can make Sisero feel bad. 

“ I am a bad hand at guessing, love; pray, 
tell me, if I ought to know.” 

Sisero tells her aunt who the letter is from, 
and reads parts of the letter — of a gay place. 
It is full of society news, and full of names 
which sound familiar to both. Her Aunt Ruth 


172 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


suddenly turns white; Sisero has read a name 
which sends the blood to her heart and makes 
it throb in a fearful way. She speaks calmly 
enough; but the feverish flush glows in her 
cheek for a long time. 

“ Well, my darling, it is a charming day, 
and if you are ready for breakfast, come down 
to my room, and we will breakfast there. By 
the way, would you mind giving me that letter 
to read?” 

Sisero hands it to her, and an odd little smile 
comes over her lips. She has seen the flush, 
and says to herself : “ Ah, now who has got 
to be taken care of? ” and thinks, “ It will turn 
my mind from my own trouble to see her happy 
(Oh! if she could be!) again.” And Sisero 
feels a little comforted to think she can do 
something for the one who has done so much 
for her. “ How thankful I am ! I really thought 
at one time I could do nothing for her.” She 
gives a sigh of relief and goes down to her 
aunt. She settles herself comfortably in her 
rocking-chair, which she always uses. When 
the two are seated, she takes her cup of choco- 
late from Jane and prepares to be very good 
to her aunt. I am afraid she does not as yet 
know just what she intends doing, but some- 
thing, she has fully made up her mind. She 
i73 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


all at once is solicitous of her aunt; tells her 
she really must eat something; looks anxiously 
at the breakfast-table, which is daintily spread. 
All the appointments of her aunt’s house or 
surroundings speak of wealth and refinement. 

This old home is apt to be considered some- 
what dreary to those of a fashionable world, 
who must live on excitement every minute; 
but to these two chums, two women who have 
so many resources in themselves, lovers of nat- 
ure, music, and reading, it is just what they 
both need at the present time. They never 
exist to kill time; they never have time enough. 

To Sisero the whole place is beautiful beyond 
words — the dark forest, the old bridle-paths 
where the boughs meet overhead, the solemn, 
stately old mansion itself, shut in by elms and 
oaks which might be a hundred years old, the 
solitude and repose everywhere — it all has an 
exceeding charm. For weeks they do nothing 
but wander about. The weather is mild, the 
sky perfect, the air refreshes their bodies and 
spirits. They are more enchanted than ever 
before with the place. 

“ It is glorious! ” Sisero murmurs. “ How 
free one can move and breathe in such a 
place.” 

“Free!” says her aunt; “is anyone that? 


174 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


As long as life lasts, so long does bondage curb 
our wishes.” 

“ Why, auntie, you never seemed to feel this 
way before — at least, not since I have known 
you. Has anything happened to make you 
blue? ” 

“ Oh, no, child ; I am very happy with you. 
We will not let any little thing come between 
us.” 

“ Well, you have very little to complain of, 
auntie,” laughs Sisero. “ You have perfect 
health, money, can go and do as you like, and 
me to love you — what more do you want, can 
you want? ” 

“ I suppose nature always asserts her rights 
from us at some period or other,” answers her 
aunt. 

“ Do you never feel as though you might 
marry again, auntie? ” 

“ My dear,” murmurs her aunt, with delicate 
scorn and faint reproach, “ a woman of my age, 
and leave you? I may not be old, but I hope 
I am sensible. No! I have a thousand things 
to make me happy; nature, solitude, artistic 
fancies, and, not last nor least, you, my dar- 
ling. Do you think I am not happy? ” 

“ But, auntie, have you quite forgotten? for 
forgetfulness is not always possible, where we 
i75 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


desire it, even. I know that a word, a line, 
will thrill us to our very hearts, and I am of 
a very poetic nature. I include all grand and 
noble thoughts in my idea of poetry; in this 
way there often come to me thoughts one less 
idealistic might not have. I drink at every 
fountain of nature, and such a nature as I have 
might be intensely unhappy, for it holds two 
extremes that make up life — happiness and 
misery; it gets more out of each than natures 
more placid and commonplace and content. 
Siich a nature really lives; the other stagnates. 

“ You have read so much, and thought ev- 
erything, it seems to me, auntie,” says Sisero, 
admiringly. “ And, as I remember or look at 
it, you are the only woman I have met who 
does not talk dress, servants, or some other 
uninteresting thing. I don’t think I ever heard 
you say a scandalous word of anybody. You 
are happiest with those who talk of books, or 
things as interesting as that. How tiresome 
it is to hear a lot of men or women talk of 
nothing but gossip respecting other men or 
women.” 

“ Society is artificial in the last degree, and 
objects to strong emotions; vapid is what it 
is, vapid is what it intends to stay. A clever 
woman laughs in her mind at one set of people, 
176 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


but yawns at a dose of another; she finds her 
greatest charm and comfort in her thoughts or 
books. Now, my dear child, you could never 
be a child or woman of the world ; you are too 
transparent for society; you show in your face, 
and have, ever since you were born, whether 
you are pleased or bored, happy or sad. You 
are young, have been much admired, and have 
a splendid position. Socially, you might take 
the lead, but you never will. You care too 
little about the honor and glory of social suc- 
cess.” 

“ No; to me it is thin, vapid, wearisome, 1 ” 
says Sisero. 

“ Exactly ; and you show in your face and 
manner that you feel it to be so. I have felt 
the same, but covered my dereliction with a 
cloak of eccentricity. You simply look bored; 
you do not care for a crash and clatter, a big 
noise, as of Fourth of July, for instance, or a 
room-full of people all talking at once, a parade, 
or numerous things I might mention. No ; you 
care for very few things but music, a lovely 
home, refined people, glorious country scenery, 
and books; and you show your dislikes very 
plainly, which is not a fault, in my eyes. Good 
birth and refinement, purity and simplicity are 
treated by loud people as old-fashioned. There 
177 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


are those who are not satisfied if not in a push- 
ing, noisy, scrambling race. There is no gilt 
or gloss in your nature. My darling, we have 
talked the whole morning away, and there is 
the lunch call.” 

As they go down the great oak staircase, 
with arms around each other, Sisero says: 

“ What a comfort there are no men here.” 

The girl has passed through a wild, incom- 
prehensible passion, and for so pure a nature 
she has loved deeply and passionately, with an 
absorption which few feel; to a weak, placid, 
prosaic nature, this kind of love is quite in- 
comprehensible. 

To the untempted it is so easy to be strong; 
to the cold, so easy to be good. Still, one must 
have an object in life; one may be called ec- 
centric, but must not be called commonplace. 
A life apart from love, from sympathy, from 
the interests of others, can never be an entirely 
happy one, though it may be, in a sense, un- 
troubled. 


178 


THE WHITE DAYS 




X. 


“ At sixteen we believe in all men. 

At twenty in one. 

At thirty in none/' 

“ T T EAVEN bless you, my bonnie bird,” 

I " I says a trembling voice. Sisero 

JL JL stands before a bent, aged figure, 
supporting itself on a crutch, and 
looking with dim and loving eyes at the beau- 
tiful vision. 

“Ah,” goes on the quavering old voice, “may 
long life and happiness be yours, my dearie. 
It’s old Mother Lucian will pray for it every 
day she lives, though she never thought to see 
you again. And how has love dealt with you, 
my bonnie lass?” 

“ Hush, Mother Lucian,” said the girl, gen- 
tly. “ I can’t stay long; I wanted to see if there 
was anything you wanted, and I came to tell 
you some news. My auntie and myself are 
going to stay here a long while.” 

“ Oh! I am glad; but how about the lover? 
who is he? ” 

181 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


As Sisero attempts an answer, the voice that 
has been brave and clear gives way; a sob 
bursts from the girl, and, regardless of every- 
thing, she throws herself at the old wom- 
an’s feet, and burying her face in her lap, cries 
out her misery, which she has been keeping 
to herself so her aunt need not be unhappy 
about her. 

“ My lamb! ” cries the old woman, terrified 
at such unexpected emotion. “ There, dry 
your eyes; there, there, rest ye quiet now. I 
did not think to hurt ye.” 

“ Ah,” says the girl, rising to her feet and 
dashing the tears away with a half-ashamed 
energy, “how foolish I am!” 

“Ye were always a bit queer,” says the old 
woman, looking fondly and proudly at the 
beautiful girl. “ Heaven make yer life go 
straight, my dearie. My heart misgave me sore 
for you the day you came to me so long ago; 
but I hoped for the best, and pray for ye while 
there’s a breath left in my old body to do it.” 

“ Ah, do,” answers the girl, softly. “ Who 
knows, I may need your prayers yet.” 

“ Don’t speak so sadly, my child,” says the 
old woman ; “ keep up a brave heart, no matter 
what comes.” 

“ Don’t let us talk of it any more. I feel 
182 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


quite wicked when I think of it, when I think 
of what I am doing; it seems to come home to 
me worse sometimes than others; but it is 
too late to help anything now — too late! ” 

“ Don’t say those words; they have a weary- 
ful sound from your lips,” says the aged wom- 
an, tenderly; “ it may turn out better than ye 
think. Ye may trust God for that. Run ye 
now, my dearie, and God bless your bonnie 
face and give ye the happiness He sees fit.” 

Sisero goes out and walks down the path. 
How is it she feels like this now — now, when 
it is so useless, so vain? A few hours ago she 
felt quite content. Alas! it is too late now for 
regrets or repentance. The handsome face 
and eyes will come before her once in a while; 
and when, a little later, she enters her aunt’s 
pretty morning room, her aunt notices how 
pale she looks, and thinks the morning walk 
has not done her much good. 


183 


XI. 


“ Only our judge is just, 

For only one 

Knovveth the hearts of men ; 

And hearts alone 
Are guilty or are guiltless. ” 

“ f V 1 ^ HE place is just the same, isn't it? ” 
says one tall man to another, as 
i they stand at the window of a club- 
house in London, and look out at 
the lighted streets in the gray November dusk. 

The man addressed turns his keen, dark eyes 
on his companion’s face. 

“ The same — yes, I suppose it is. It’s only 
people who change, you know. Places and 
things haven’t their excuse.” 

These two men have been some time from 
London, and are enjoying the comforts of club 
life, the reunion with old friends, the hundred 
and one things that, familiar enough once, have 
double value since sacrificed for the discom- 
forts of a foreign country, perhaps, the myriad 
discomforts of climate, and no club. 

184 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ London is the best place in the world to 
enjoy life in, after all,” he continues. “ I’ve 
been looking up old friends to-day, and did 
not expect to find such welcomes.” 

“Old friends!” echoes his companion, some- 
what sadly. “ I wonder if I have any left.” He 
passes his hand over his short, iron-gray hair, 
and half sighs. He is tall, erect, powerful, with 
keen, dark eyes — a man of about forty-five. 
His eyes gaze out on the darkening street, 
where the lamps are shining, and his thoughts 
go back to some years before — to a time of 
fierce joy and fiercer suffering. 

“ I wonder where she is now,” he thinks 
to himself. “ I wonder I have not forgotten 
her; but could such a woman be forgotten? 
She is one of those who live in the mind of a 
man who at last returns to his first and finest 
ideal.” 

He laughs a little bitterly and impatiently, 
and then turns to his friend with an invitation 
to drive with him, and theatre afterward. His 
friend says: 

“ I promised to look in on my friend, Mrs. 
Vane, this evening, and there we are sure to 
meet some of the nicest people; you’ll come, 
too, will you not? ” 

“Oh, yes; I’ll come,” answers the first 
185 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


speaker, indifferently. He is rarely anything 
but indifferent now. They dine and go to the 
Gaiety after. To Wyndham the performance 
is idiotic in the extreme. 

“ I can’t stand this trash,” he mutters, im- 
patiently. “ Come, you can’t really care for 
such rubbish.” 

Once free of the theatre, they hail a hansom 
and are driven to the friend’s house. Colonel 
Wyndham feels no ambition to meet a lot of 
people in whom he is not one bit interested, 
but goes to please his friend. Women are 
more often interested by a man’s indifference 
than flattered by his homage. There is, after 
all, very little variation in the pretty things 
men say to pretty women. He feels he is a 
little out of place here, after all these years, 
and can’t keep the one face out of his mind; 
he keeps wondering if she has forgotten, if 
she is still as sweet as in her girlhood, or young 
womanhood. Why can he not get her face 
out of his mind? When he had seen her last, 
she was little more than a child — young, fresh, 
innocent, pure; she had abandoned herself to 
love without thought or analysis. She had 
worshipped him as one of the noblest, truest 
of God’s creatures, and he had betrayed her. 
Her love had been in its way as perfect as it 
1 86 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


was beautiful; and then, suddenly, without 
warning, or preparation of any sort, she had 
learned she had been deceived. 

Had she known more of the world, had she 
been in any way less innocent of mind and 
thought, she would have known better than 
to expect as much as she had; but she had not 
known. Her dream had been rudely broken, 
her faith rudely shaken. Angered, outraged, 
shamed, she had been stung to the fierceness 
of jealous anger and hate. 

If she had been older and had more wisdom, 
she might have known that love has nothing 
to do with the soulless follies in which some 
men find beguilement. Nor is there one thing 
on earth they loathe so utterly as an unworthy 
passion, whose pursuit has been base, whose 
conquest wearied almost as soon as achieved, 
and from which their better nature recoils, once 
the evil glamor is over. An amorous infidelity 
that her great, pure, trusting love had shamed 
and shown as the debasing, selfish thing it was. 

He finds that only one thought in his heart 
has given him courage to endure all he has 
had to, the thought that the hour would come 
when they should meet, and her pity or love 
sweep away all barriers, and she would say to 
him: You have suffered enough, let us im- 

187 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


prove the time left. Oh! to stand face to face 
and hear her say that. But where have his wits 
been wool gathering? His friend calls him 
back out of his dream. He looks around in 
a dazed way, then realizes how lovely these 
rooms look to him after his long exile ; every- 
where he sees the delicate, subdued hues, the 
softly shaded lights, gracefully arranged palms 
and flowers; the suitably dressed attendants, 
who move about so unobtrusively; the hush 
and order of it all. He goes with his friend 
into another room, his tall figure above all 
other heads; as he passes the curtained door- 
way, a light still more subdued — like moon- 
light — fills the room. He can discern no one 
at first, but he soon gets used to the light, and 
he sees straight before him a woman with a 
halo, or so her head looks to him. He has not 
dared hope for this; but at last it has come. 
He finds himself face to face with the only 
woman he has ever really loved. As their eyes 
meet and he bends over her hand after all these 
years, he sees only the soft, serious smile. Can 
she smile? In a moment she is calmer, more 
self-possessed than himself. 

“ I — I hope — I beg,” he stammers, con- 
fusedly; “I mean I had no idea of meeting 
you to-night.” 


1 88 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ I am glad to see you,” she says, and the 
low, tender music of her voice thrills him with 
an exquisite pain. “ I knew you had returned ; 
you have been away a great many years.” 

“ A great many,” he answers, his eyes sweep- 
ing over the lovely face and figure of this 
queenly woman, who is so like and yet so dif- 
ferent to the radiant girl he had married so 
many years before. 

“ You are very little altered,” she says, and 
she falters as she meets his glance. 

“ I feel changed enough, Heaven knows,” 
he says. Wyndham thinks her more lovely 
than ever. The old pain, so long buried and 
fought against, comes back all too vividly. 
He knows he has never ceased to love this 
woman. 

Again from the past comes back the thought, 
what his love for her had meant, of all they 
might have been to each other but for his own 
folly, his own sin. 

A man’s passions are ever their own Neme- 
sis, he thinks, wearily; and then her voice falls 
on his ear again. He cannot keep still, but 
roams about the vast rooms, and hears her 
name on every tongue. Again and again he 
finds himself watching that fair, serene face, 
that exquisite figure. Men speak of her beauty 
189 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


and wonder that she has not married, little 
knowing they are speaking to one who has 
at one time been the husband of such a beauti- 
ful woman. He is beside her again. 

She does not appear to notice his presence, 
but she is well aware of it; it lights her eyes 
and brings a smile to her lips. His heart grows 
bitter within him to think he has been such a 
fool — that he must win her again. Does she 
think of him no more than the veriest stranger 
in her life? God help us! men and women 
both, if we could not in some way mask our 
faces and conceal our feelings. 

Wyndham’s face is as pale as if his blood has 
been frozen in its currents and no longer can 
warm and color the passionless exterior. His 
once beloved wife looks at him and thinks of 
the emptiness of her life now — a feeling which 
has come to her within a short time. 

“ I was a fool,” he says to himself; “ but I 
have come to my senses. I must see her 
alone.” 

The crowd move about, and he finds himself 
at her side once more. 

“ Let me find you a seat,” he says. 

Ruth looks at him and takes his arm — only 
for a second, however; it has seemed so nat- 
ural ; she has not thought. They pass on with 
190 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


the rest for a few steps, then sit down together. 
Together! his heart gives a quick throb when 
he thinks of the word; he feels a little impa- 
tient at the calm friendliness with which she 
treats him. What does he expect? Shall she 
fall on his neck? What right has she, even if 
she feels that way? Is she any more to him 
than the greatest stranger there? His face 
changes; a storm of feeling sweeps over his 
face and soul, and for a moment chains back 
the impetuous words he fain would utter. 
When he does speak his voice is low; his eyes 
rest on her with a sadness, a great longing, in 
their depths. She is so much to him, this 
woman sitting so close to him, but much too 
far, the way he looks at it. Oh! fool that he 
has been to lose her! 

“ I thought — you might have forgotten.” 

“ It is strange that I have not,” she says, 
“ in so many years ; but it is not easy to forget, 
always, what pains us most.” She turns and 
takes up her bouquet, which she has a moment 
before laid with her gloves at her side. All at 
once the old past comes over her with a sick- 
ening feeling; the blossoms make her sick; 
she lets them fall and clasps her hands. 

“ I did not think it would come back as 
bad as this,” she says. 

191 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


All that is best and noble in his heart springs 
up; all that is most hard to resist wraps him 
in a flame of temptation that makes it almost 
impossible not to clasp this woman to his breast 
and rain kisses on her face. It almost stifles 
him. To be worthy of this love which he meets 
in her mournful eyes, reads in her face and her 
unconscious betrayal ! 

“ Let me go,” she whispers; “I can bear 
no more to-night.” 

One long, long look they give — a look 
which shows each what is in the other heart; 
and she is soon on her way home, no anguish 
in her heart now. 

Ruth wakes, the next morning, with a con- 
sciousness of what is to come. During break- 
fast she is silent; as the forenoon advances she 
can settle to nothing. A feverish color burns 
in her cheeks; her eyes are brilliant. Every 
step in the street startles her — every ring of the 
bell. 

She thinks, “ What a fool I am ! no young 
girl could act worse.” 

Twelve strikes; her eyes watch the hands 
of the clock with an absorbed fascination; one 
minute past — two — three — ten minutes past; 
now she is quite sure he is not coming. The 
bell rings at last and she thinks : 


192 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“What a different ring! I might have known 
he would ring like no one else.” 

When at last he is in her presence, she gives 
him her hand. Now that he has come she is 
quite composed once more, and all her gentle 
dignity of manner returns. 

For an instant he is silent; then he shakes 
back the hair from his forehead with the im- 
patient gesture that she well remembers. At 
last he exclaims: 

“ Oh, God! to think of the time wasted! ” 

“ Life is full of mistakes,” says Ruth ; a 
sudden mist of tears dims her eyes. There is 
a long silence. She rises from her seat, her 
voice broken and full of sadness. 

“May God have mercy on us both!” he 
says; “and once you put your arms around 
my neck and told me you would be mine for- 
ever. I dare not ask it now. I would not wish 
the worst foe I have to endure what I have 
endured.” His voice is low and husky. “ I 
parted from you in anger. I spoke roughly, 
cruelly; I said I would never come to you 
again.” His face is white and sad — no bad- 
ness in it now, only anguish and despair. 

She cannot answer in words. There comes 
such a moment to all women who love; it is 
the hardest to overcome. 

T 93 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


His voice is low and unsteady. She hears 
every word, and all the love and longing of 
years comes surging over her. 

“ I think I would give the world to be able 
to say it to-day,” she cries, with sudden pas- 
sion. 

He is standing, facing her, white as death. 
She meets his gaze. They know all the love, 
all the time, that has been wasted. He takes 
her hand and draws her near, nearer. 

“ May I kiss you? ” he whispers. 

She forgets everything now, save that she 
loves. The tears spring to her eyes, as the old 
remembered music of his voice thrills her with 
joy and pain. 

“ You have not said you forgave me,” he 
says. 

“ There is no need; you know it.” 

“ I knew you were proud and pure and true,” 
he says; but she stops him. 

“ Do not let us talk of the past; let us forget 
it in this new love. I never want to hear a 
word of it again.” 


194 


XII. 

I ET us pass over a few weeks of happi- 
ness; many have been through just 
J such joy, earned with heart’s blood. 
Ruth feels half-ashamed of her hap- 
piness when she thinks of Sisero. What will 
the child think of her? She has been away 
during all this, and her aunt has not thought 
best to break in on her contentment; for Sisero 
has written such bright letters, she is sure she 
must be happy. 

All Ruth’s friends are glad and astonished 
when they come to hear of the turn of affairs. 

“ My darling child,” writes Sisero’s Aunt 
Ruth, sitting at her desk in the pretty morning 
room, “ I am so happy, and so miserable; 
happy in the thought of love once more, and 
miserable when I think of what you may think. 
I don’t know the words to tell you about it. 
My old lover has come back; we are to be mar- 
ried again. Now you can guess the rest. Our 
quarrel is forgotten; the old cheerless years 
i95 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


are to be forgotten; they are only full of a 
regret over the time wasted. My lover is in 
haste to be married, for he says too much time 
has been wasted already, and I cannot find it 
in my heart to deny it. We shall be married 
next month, and we must have you here. I 
wish you would come right away; 1 must have 
you a few days all to myself. I am longing to 
see you — your letters have been so bright. I 
hope my doing this will make no difference in 
our love. I am so happy in a love that has 
borne and suffered so much in the years that 
are dead — dead as their own pain, and laid 
at rest forever now in a grave that many tears 
have watered. Hoping to see my darling child 
in a few days, I am and always shall be your 
best friend, 

“ Ruth Kingsbury.” 

A month later, in her dressing-room, a wom- 
an stands before her mirror in her bridal robe. 
Her face is lovely, her toilet exquisite. Dia- 
monds glitter in her hair only, for a fastening 
for the veil. There is a quiet gladness in the 
eyes. A maid enters with a bouquet and a note, 
and, giving them to Ruth, says : 

“ Colonel Wyndham desires me to say he was 
waiting, my lady.” 


196 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ I will be down immediately. You can take 
my cloak,” answers the mistress. 

The maid leaves the room; Ruth opens and 
reads the note, takes the flowers in her hand, 
and goes down. She moves across the richly 
carpeted corridor and enters the salon to greet, 
for an instant, her fiance. The maid throws on 
her cloak, and she follows her husband of the 
past down to the carriage. How strange it 
seems, this marrying twice to secure her hap- 
piness! 

The carriage is soon at the church. Uncon- 
scious of the comments, heedless of the obser- 
vations, this happy pair are made one again. 
A few moments, and down the crimson-car- 
peted stairs a white and radiant figure floats 
to the waiting carriage, followed by the lithe, 
pretty figure, also in white, whom we know so 
well; she keeps a smiling face through it all, 
until in her own room. Then, throwing herself 
on her bed, she gives way to her grief. What 
is there left for her? Her last stay is gone. 

The carriage bearing the bride rolls smooth- 
ly on; she leans back with her eyes gazing into 
those of her husband — him whom she loves 
more fondly, after all the sorrow, than she ever 
could as a girl. 

No word of the past does Sisero ever hear; 

197 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


she almost hopes he has forgotten; she cer- 
tainly hopes he is happy. For herself nothing 
seems to signify now. Her dearest is married; 
and after a few weeks, if she could have had 
her way, she would have been glad to have 
gone back to the old home to live, but of 
course that is not to be thought of. As her 
aunt said, it was a wild idea. 


198 


XIII. 


A COLD, wet afternoon in March. A few 
days ago people believed in spring. 
There had been abundance of sun- 
shine, of blue sky, of birds, violets, 
primroses in the flower-girls’ baskets, and cro- 
cuses out of doors in their cold beds ; the hya- 
cinths were beginning to show their heads. If 
this disagreeable weather would but hold off 
a little, the country would look lovely. 

In a drawing-room a silver tea-urn stands 
hissing on a low table by the fire; a handsome 
woman is pouring tea for a few of her friends. 
It is her day; and her friends are always glad 
to avail themselves of this day. She is always 
charming, and has the attraction of a handsome 
home, with sunshine everywhere — at least in 
her face and house, even if outside it is gloomy. 
Sisero is still with her Aunt Ruth and has been 
quite happy, a fact which quite relieves her 
aunt, who has been afraid this life would not 
satisfy the child (as she still calls her) long. 
199 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ What has become of our singing-bird? ” 
asks a pretty, fair woman, as she puts down 
her cup. 

“ She is here, somewhere,” answers the aunt. 
Someone comes softly into the room, careful, 
attentive. “Jane, will you please tell Miss 
Sisero her aunt would like to speak to her? ” 

Soon a figure so attractive, a face so be- 
witching, enters the room, that all eyes of the 
exclusive circle in which her aunt delights fol- 
low the dainty figure. Everyone wonders why 
this elegant girl is left to bloom by her aunt’s 
side so long. 

On the afternoon which her aunt devotes to 
her intimate friends (the number of which is 
very limited) Sisero generally sings. They 
generally break into little groups and tete-a- 
tetes, make themselves at home, and have song 
after song of the best music; for Sisero has 
not forgotten how to sing, and can enjoy it 
once more. The younger members of the 
group listen enviously, perhaps. To the men 
Sisero is always very attractive, but from her 
they have no especial attention; she never 
seems to think of them in any other way than 
as her aunt’s friends; for all this time an un- 
comfortable memory rises before her, and at 
times she feels uneasy and unsettled. No one 


200 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of the company missed a note of her music, for 
her rare voice is seldom heard. 

Seldom has Sisero looked as lovely as she 
does on this day. Her hair without ornament, 
the beautiful throat and neck without jewels, 
gleam like marble above a square-cut bodice. 
Her aunt looks at her with grave, soft eyes, a 
little puzzled at times to understand her. Has 
she forgotten? 

The superb voice of this girl thrills across 
the rooms and touches all with its passion. 
Her aunt’s heart grows chill while she is sing- 
ing, for she knows of what the girl is thinking, 
wishing. When she is done singing she never 
stops for a word. What little she says must be 
said before she sings ; it is impossible for her to 
talk afterward. She goes immediately to her 
room for awhile and is silent. She feels in a 
sort of dream; senses, feelings, are lulled to 
a strange repose; the memory of the perfect 
melody is about her still, and sometimes fol- 
lows her out into the shadows of the night and 
into the dim walks of the quaint old garden. 
Under the trees she stands, a slender white fig- 
ure, the moon shedding its silver rays around 
her; sometimes two quivering lips part, as if 
to speak or cry out. There is a momentary 
hush in the company when Sisero is done sing- 


201 


/ 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


ing; then the usual talk of society and tea- 
drinking. We are all familiar with this, and 
some of it will not bear repeating. At times, 
if no one lingers and the house seems still, 
her aunt goes for the sad girl and brings her 
back for a quiet talk all by themselves. She 
gently puts Sisero into the chair in front of 
the fire, stirs the logs into a blaze, gets her 
a cup of tea in a charming way that is all her 
own. The poor girl accepts her attentions with 
laughing opposition against the amount of 
trouble she is taking, but, on the whole, likes 
it; the two have had so many talks this way 
all through their lives. Sisero’s face has 
changed very little in the months of trouble, 
except for the shadows beneath the dark lashes. 
Her eyes look sad at times, which makes her 
all the more beautiful. As she sits in this way 
with her best friend, all pain and weariness 
flee away; there is magic in the fire or in being 
once more alone with the one who never fails 
her. Only once did this charm fail her. The 
weeks have flown by with few clouds, but 
Sisero’s thoughts have not been still. As the 
two sit together in this way, one evening, 
a great darkness sweeps over Sisero, and she 
knows the time has come when she must tell 
her aunt what she has decided to do. She 


202 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


sinks on her knees and pours out her heart, 
with all its tangled threads and broken hopes, 
thoughts which have come to her in the dark 
winter days. She must keep her faith un- 
shaken; she must live the life of duty she has 
at last laid out for herself. Her aunt takes the 
sad white face upon her bosom, and softly 
kisses the weary lids. 

“ Now, darling, you are nervous and worn- 
out, and must rest.” 

“No, auntie, I am not tired; I am deter- 
mined. I must tell you now what I have de- 
cided.” 

“ Promise you will not leave me, Sisero ; I 
do not want to live without you.” 

“ No, my dear auntie, this thing must be 
done. I see so much suffering in this world, 
I must do what I can. I have been so long 
in making up my mind; but at last I am ready 
to declare myself one of God’s helpers. I mean 
to devote myself to the sick from now on.” 

“ And what of your music? ” says her aunt. 

“ My voice shall make one and all who are 
around me happy at any and all times. I will 
never refuse to use either my voice or fingers 
to please, from this time.” 

They talk long into the night. Finally her 
aunt says: 


203 


/ 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“The great wrench is over; the worst is 
past. Time and the consciousness of having 
done what is right will give you peace and 
comfort at the last. Youth and strength are 
yours, and many good gifts of life, and if you 
throw yourself into others’ sufferings and 
widen your sympathy with the interests and 
trials of those around you, believe me, it will 
do much to make your own troubles less. I 
speak, as you know, from experience as bitter 
as your own.” And once more kissing the 
closed lids which seem too weary for tears, she 
puts her strong arm around Sisero and goes 
with her to her room. 

When Sisero prays she says, “ Thy will be 
done.” She prays not for her heart’s desire, 
but “ Thy will; not mine.” 


204 


XIV. 


W E pass over a few months to find 
Sisero’s old lover in his room at 
home. This room is situated in a 
wing of some considerable length, 
a modern addition to the old castle, in the rear 
of the edifice. The windows look out upon 
the park. The sun must have found free ad- 
mittance to the room all day, for the atmos- 
phere is oppressive, which is improved when 
both windows are thrown up. Under any cir- 
cumstances, it would have been long ere he 
could have gone to sleep. He goes to the win- 
dow and gazes out into the garden, where the 
jet of a fountain falling into the basin can plain- 
ly be heard. The window and balcony below 
project in softly rounded lines from the fagade, 
now but dimly illuminated by the moon, which 
is about to sink below the horizon. The re- 
mainder of the edifice lay in shadow, in the 
other wing of the castle. How many evenings 
had he gazed! he took no account of time now; 
205 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


his life seemed to run to waste; nothing in- 
terested him. Should he start life again? It 
did not seem possible for him. Voices in the 
corridor arouse him from the reverie into which 
he has fallen. The other guests are retiring 
to their rooms, and he recognizes the different 
voices as they bid each other good-night. He 
at last throws himself on his bed, but not to 
sleep; he renounces all idea of doing so, and 
determines to spend the night in an armchair 
at the open window. But even this becomes 
at last unendurable, and the moist breath of 
the fountain lures him out into the silent night. 

He leaves the room without his coat or hat, 
and descends the staircase. The courtyard is 
as silent as the grave, and as deserted in the 
faint glimmering moonlight as the garden on 
the opposite side. He walks on, little caring 
where he goes or how far; the magic of the 
silent night has taken possession of his senses. 

He rests from time to time, as he walks 
through the park; he has seldom felt so tired. 
He not only feels tired, but he feels strangely, 
and cannot understand what this feeling is 
which seems dragging him down. He stops 
again and again to cool his hot brow in the 
stream which flows through the wood, then 
walks aimlessly on into the most secluded part 
206 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


of the wood, where only a faint glimmer of 
moonlight shows through the branches of the 
tall trees. The stars are mirrored in the stream. 
The thought of a bath here is tempting. A 
feeling of strange delight steals over him at 
the thought. He walks on in the soft night 
air beside the still, dark water, which makes 
no sound. He is soon ready, and plunges in 
and divides the water with swift, long strokes, 
at intervals raising his head to throw back 
the hair from his hot brow. This fever seems 
burning him through and through, and when 
at last he has had enough, it is with difficulty 
he can get up the bank. He is thoroughly 
exhausted, and lies on the bank of the stream 
in an almost unconscious state. He is obliged 
to reflect a moment to remember where he is, 
and wonder what this strange feeling is. When 
he at last can think, a strangely wearied, sad 
smile comes over his face; he well remembers 
now, and his face has the look of one too proud 
to weep, but far more mournful — a strange, 
fierce, implacable expression — the look a face 
might wear after a heavy life-storm in which 
every hope has perished, and madness is ap- 
proaching. He has been overwhelmed with 
the deep sorrow which is his, after fruitless at- 
tempts to set himself right in eyes which cannot 
207 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


be brought to see things his way. The air is 
still and oppressive; not a sound. A few drops 
of rain fall, to which he lifts his brow. 

He totters on, still thinking, wondering how 
long it is since he has slept. He knows she 
is unhappy and suffering, for she is a true 
woman with pity in her heart, even if not for 
him. It is not true that we are helpless drops 
of water in the sea of passion; she has clung 
to the right and good. 

He can feel the pressure of her hand on his 
arm, sees the lustre of her eye, and the lips 
he has kissed. He smiles in the midst of his 
horror, for he can scarcely breathe, so heavily 
does the sultry atmosphere weigh upon his 
breast. So, in happy wretchedness, forgetting 
where he is, he staggers through the forest. 
He felt as though he were wandering through 
a region not in the world, where a poor mortal 
wanders aimlessly about, and so long as he 
remains in the enchanted place, must give him- 
self up to the torture of this hidden fire. 

He lets his movements be directed by 
chance. He cannot see now, and stumbles on, 
he knows not where. We know he is brought 
where kind hands can do for him. 


208 


THE BLUE DAYS 










XV. 


A NOTHER hour. She kneels there 
/\ still. He has fallen into a fitful doze, 
A. JLp from which he starts from time to 
time, to be reassured by the pressure 
of her hand, some murmur from her lips. An- 
other hour. The darkness of the night creeps 
on slowly, wearily enough. The prayer her 
lips have framed is hushed now. He sleeps 
more calmly, more tranquilly than he has done 
before. Another hour. The sister who relieves 
her comes softly in. 

“ There is no hope.” 

“ Dying! Oh, my love, my love! can I let 
you go now, just when we have met again? 
Will God not have pity on me? ” 

Mechanically, like one in a dream, she 
moves, scarcely knowing where she is going. 

To kiss for the last time those eyes that she 
seemed to be losing. Tender, agonized, be- 
seeching had been his words, when she would 
not hear. 

211 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ Happy, is she? ” His voice is cold and 
stern; his eyes flash angrily. Then a short, 
harsh laugh escapes his feverish lips. “ God ! 
what a fool I’ve been.” He tries to get up. 
“ Couldn’t she have told me? it is three months 
since I wrote her — and not a line. I can’t 
believe it — the girl who vowed to be true to 
me forever — married. Never to be mine. Oh, 
God! What am I to do?” He groans, and 
the nurse bends over him and smoothes his 
hair. He turns white and looks appealingly 
at her; his voice grows harsh, and he says: 

“ I never meant to meet you again.” He 
shivers from head to foot. “ I know you have 
spoiled my whole life,” he raves. “ Thoughts 
have driven me mad. I have stood alone on 
a moonlight night to look at the beauty in 
nature, seen the stars shining in the summer 
sky. I stand this way and long, until longing 
drives me desperate. I have not heard a strain 
of music since we parted that I did not long 
to turn to you for answering sympathy. Every 
time I have thought of you, your face has come 
upon me with a spell which made me curse 
the day I was born.” 

His raving is terrible for Sisero; she takes 
no food or rest for hours at a time. What 
would she not do to bring back the past? When 


212 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


it is her hour of duty, she tends and watches 
her lover with untiring devotion. The physi- 
cians praise her, little thinking how much 
heart she has in it. When the night comes, 
and the sick-room is hushed and still, Sisero, 
in her gray dress, is sitting by the bed of the 
sick man. She is alone; she thinks he is 
asleep; his eyes are closed. The whole ex- 
pression of her face is so sad, so heart-crushed. 

Suddenly she looks at the quiet figure. His 
eyes are fixed on her face; he has been watch- 
ing her. 

“ Why are you here? ” he says. 

“ I am only doing my duty. I have ruined 
your life and mine.” 

His eyes seem to summon her across the 
time which has separated them, but she does 
not go. She rises and leaves the room; she 
dare not trust herself longer before those hun- 
gry eyes; but a sister comes to entreat her 
to return, as the sick man has been asking for 
her. She goes back. The gaunt face, the 
eager eyes are turned toward her. 

“ Don’t leave me ! I cannot have long to 
live!” 

Oh, the weariness of the voice, the anguish 
and despair in the white face! 

His eyes look at her thirstily, taking in all 

2T 3 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


the beauty he so well remembers. It maddens 
him to gaze upon her and think they are so 
utterly lost to each other. Her face pales to 
the whiteness of death. She forgets all but 
that she loves him and death is separating 
them. She says : 

“ You accuse me of blighting your life, and 
I deserve the reproach; the harm is done past 
all undoing.” She draws her breath sharp and 
quick; his hand is on her own; it is cold with 
the shadow of death ; nothing seems to be left 
in her heart but a passionate longing for him 
to stay. Oh! why must he go just when she 
has found out her mistake? Her whole soul 
is wrung with unutterable anguish in this com- 
ing parting. 

She throws herself on her knees by the side 
of his bed, and cries to him to forgive her. 

“Hush!” he says, with sudden fierceness. 
“ I have little to forgive, and little time to do it. 
Let us not waste the few moments I have.” 
His arms are wrapped around the slender, de- 
spairing figure; he holds her closely to His 
breast. His look never changes ; all the lustre 
of his eyes seems to sway and reel amidst the 
leafy shadows of death. As Sisero listens to 
his words of love, her soul is rent and shaken ; 
she has never loved him as she loves him now; 


214 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


and he is leaving her. The thought terrifies 
her; a sense of her wickedness, her vain glory 
in doing right, and the awful dread of the 
ordeal before her, is more than she can bear. 
She says to herself, 

“ My folly has ruined two lives — shut me 
out from the only happiness I had. I would 
rather die than live without you.” 

“ Oh, Sisero ! God knows I would have made 
you happy if it lay in mortal’s power. Say 
no more; it can do no good; nothing can 
alter the old law, 4 What man most wants is 
taken from him.’ ” 

“It is cruel, it is cruel!” sobs Sisero, de- 
spairingly; “ can nothing be done? Oh! how 
I have loved and wanted you, only to be dis- 
appointed by death! ” 

His arms release her as suddenly as they had 
clasped her. She is alone in her anguish and 
despair. 


215 


XVI. 

O NCE more alone, she turns to her one 
true helper, the unfailing love of 
her aunt. She rests a short time 
with her, but there seems no long 
rest for her; and the two decide that Sisero has 
too much money to work in the same way they 
had laid out at first, and some plan is talked 
of whereby Sisero can use both her money and 
strength for profit to others. 

Her aunt tells her she is sorry to have her 
go away from her, but thinks it will be better 
for her in the end to have a work which will 
satisfy her, fill her life with care and thoughts 
of others; for, as she said to Sisero, all our 
gifts or talents in this world depend upon how 
we use them for our happiness. 

“ ‘ Honor to those whose words or deeds 
Thus help us in our daily needs ; 

And by their overflow 
Raise us from what is low.’ 


216 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ My darling, I would like to have spared 
you the prosaic side of life and had you see 
only the beautiful.” 

Sisero’s cheeks grow less pale as they talk 
of what she is to do. She had known the bliss 
of love’s great rapture, but it had been bought 
with her heart’s blood. She says: 

“ Auntie, you are the only one on earth who 
is really acquainted with my every thought, 
every emotion of my heart.” 

Are not the weal and woe of all lives insep- 
arably interwoven and blended in supreme mo- 
ments into an emotion which lifts us above 
our petty selves and makes us smile at grief 
when we are too awed by its solemnity to re- 
joice? What could we do if tears never came 
to relieve our hearts? How little some days 
bring which really touches the heart! but the 
void is not noticed. 

Sisero says : “ A mist has enfolded me, which 
is beginning to grow less dense, and I hope the 
rays of the sun will soon shine through. I do 
not quite see them yet. A soft, delightful ex- 
pectation pervades my soul, like the anticipa- 
tion of very pleasant events and experiences 
which will undoubtedly soon take place. I 
believe there is a great happiness within my 
reach, in doing for others.” 

217 






THE WHITE DAYS 









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XVII. 


T HE rays of the setting sun flooded 
with golden light the plain, modest 
room with its uncovered rafters, its 
bare floor, its simple furnishings, its 
fragrance of freshly gathered flowers, the ex- 
quisite neatness of all. 

Here sit two women whom we recognize. 
Not many weeks have elapsed since we left 
them sitting over their plans, which are per- 
fected now, and all is ready to receive the little 
ones when they come; for this house has been 
built, or enlarged, and furnished for sick chil- 
dren who cannot have the care they need in 
their own homes, even if they have a home. 
The babes or children who come may be moth- 
erless, or not; all will be welcome who come 
sick, or those who need the sweet country air 
of this place. It is not far from the city, not 
far from her aunt’s home, and Sisero thinks 
now she shall be happy. She has never lost, 
and we hope she never will, the unquestioning 


221 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


love and confidence in her aunt. She looks 
up to her as a superior being. 

Here the two sit, while the sunset glow 
fades from the sky, and slowly into the blue 
vault above the silent earth seems to blend. 
The great white moon looked down upon two 
contented women. A calm had settled over all, 
and as the two sit, hand in hand, Sisero says: 

“ You have been mother, sister, friend, all to 
me; how thankful I am! And whether we are 
enjoying moonlight, or the sun is pouring a 
golden stream through the open casement, and 
one can see the waving tops of grain or trees, 
and hear the songs of birds, the room is filled 
with brightness for me when you are near me. 
This is a love whose source is in God.” 

“ Yes,” said her aunt, “ I am sure you will 
be happy in your work, the work you have 
chosen; and even if you do not give many 
years to it, you will not regret those. But how 
I shall miss you! My soul bids you Godspeed 
in your work, but my heart longs to keep you 
with me; and although I am now a very happy 
woman in my husband’s love, there will always 
be a void when you are not with me.” 

“ Hush, auntie! don’t make it hard for me.” 
She spoke gravely, yet not sadly, rather as one 
who is starting on a pleasant journey. 


222 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


“ I like to have you do this work,” said her 
aunt, “ and keep as much sorrow from these 
little hearts as possible, for they will have 
enough if they live, no matter how much we do. 
You have elasticity in your frame, and it can 
be strengthened and steeled by work. You 
have a gentle hand, and your little practice as 
nurse will help you with these afflicted ones. 
Tend them, soothe them, minister to them. 
Teach them, if we must suffer, let it not be in 
a spirit of bitterness. And make their simple 
souls understand the wonderful truth : 

“No emotion can be wholly subdued, and 
for those who may not laugh there are tears. 

“ ‘ Oh, grief, thou hast blessings when sorest 1 
Oh, joy, thou hast dangers when won! 

Your pathways are crossed in the forest; 

But all may lead out to the sun.’ ” 


223 


XVIII. 

S INCE we saw our heroine last, her life 
has expanded into a quiet, soulful 
beauty; the delicate, softly rounded, 
oval face has grown a little fuller; the 
complexion is still pure and beautiful, while 
her eyes have an added lustre. 

It would be difficult to say what is most 
attractive in her face, the quick intelligence of 
the eyes or the sweet gentleness expressed in 
the curves of the lips. A noble peace has come 
over her face, from which her eyes shine with 
a fire and strength and love — a love which has 
come through pain, trouble, and wisdom; it is 
the look which one might have who has looked 
into the hereafter, one who has looked into the 
great mystery but has not passed the curtain. 
The face has a beauty, an inward glow which 
spiritualizes the features and uplifts the expres- 
sion. It is a beauty that never fades, never 
grows old, never dies. 


224 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


We will leave this girl, who seems to have 
found her life-work, for a few years, but shall 
return to her again, for it does not seem right 
to leave a thing unfinished, and we have only 
been reading of her young life. We will some 
time finish enough of it to have all novel-read- 
ers satisfied, for I dislike an unsatisfactory 
ending. We leave our heroine just where the 
younger readers of the book, although not, 
perhaps, satisfied with what she is doing, will 
be satisfied with the thought that she can have 
no charm for them in what she is doing, and is 
of no consequence whatever if she is possibly 
twenty-five years of age ; for we have all heard 
girls and boys talk of not wanting to live after 
a certain age, perhaps thirty, but never after 
forty; that is quite old enough. In their minds, 
people, after the above age, have nothing 
worthy of note in their lives, and cease to 
exist, at least for them. 

I hope this book will be read in a more gen- 
eral way, and read by those old enough to 
understand it, for to those only have I spoken. 

I wish to take no unfair advantage of this 
girl; and it would be one to leave her now, 
as she is full of life and health. I do not care 
to have her disappear just as she is getting in- 
teresting to some of my readers. 

225 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


Why do the greater part of novels end just 
where the hero and heroine are married? Is 
that all there is to life? Is it the acme of all 
our hopes — readers’ especially? Is that the 
end of all that is interesting to write about? 
Why not go with this married pair through 
a few years and see if we can solve the old 
problem, “ Is marriage a failure ” ? Why not 
lay out a few happy marriages in a book, and 
see if possibly it might improve some of them 
out of the book? 

I think Dumas is the only one who takes his 
heroes to old age. 

Before we leave Sisero, let us sit where 
we can hear as she reads out of an old 
diary : 

“ Since I burned the old volume in which I 
so conscientiously gave an account of all my 
prayers before confirmation, I have been sorry; 
for now I have time to look over the old things 
of that kind — and it is gone. I wish I had 
not burned the old one, for, although I at first 
thought I should be ashamed to have anyone 
look at it, I do not feel that way now. But 
when I reflect upon it, it was not shame, be- 
cause I must endure these childish tortures 
before reaching clear views of life, which made 
me destroy them, but they looked silly to me. 

226 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


I know perfectly well I uttered a falsehood 
when I agreed to live up to the creed of the 
Church; I never meant to; I did not believe 
in it anyway. I committed my second act of 
cowardice in destroying the old book. I can 
plainly remember a shudder, like a chill, which 
ran through my frame as, one after another, 
I heard all the main points of the creed echo 
through the church. As each one was read, 
I wanted to shriek, No! but answered, in my 
usual tone of voice, Yes. I knew I was pub- 
licly and solemnly telling a lie. I did not 
intend to live up to it in any respect, unless 
I felt like doing so. Oh! the shame of having 
to confess this thing even to myself! I knew 
at the time that the only thing that made me 
do this thing was that I wanted to please 
my father, and there was quite a large class 
to go forward on this day. I heard my 
own voice professing a religion of which my 
heart knew nothing. It weighed upon my 
mind for years; then I burned my first old 
diary. 

f* Why have I now commenced a new one? 
What have I to discuss with myself? If I once 
begin, I shall soar to such heights and see such 
deep gulfs that it will not be fit reading even 
for myself. Silence may make us far happier 
227 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


than talking to ourselves, but we should not 
forget how to talk to ourselves. 

“ It is a bad habit to expect young people, 
just as they are beginning to suspect the value 
of words, the depths of the abysses of life, to 
be contented with a few answers, learned by 
rote, to the most mysterious questions. It is a 
mistake to compel the tremendous courage 
which it takes to step forward before a whole 
congregation and reveal the inmost depths of 
a young person’s soul. The objections I 
ventured to make, during the time of instruc- 
tion, were all easily refuted with theological 
self-sufficiency and supreme wisdom, ‘We must 
pray to God for faith and He will bestow it.’ 
I think now, after all these years, I have never 
had one sensible question answered in a sen- 
sible way on a theological subject. As I re- 
member it, I have asked for bread and got an 
opiate to quiet me. When impatient again, 
I ask how or what it is; I am answered with 
a quotation from the Bible, some passage of 
Scripture. Now I can also quote the same 
passages which I read or hear, but who ex- 
plains anything that way? How many years 
I spent trying to get things by or through 
prayer! I never got anything I asked for; 
but perhaps I needed them not. We read the 
228 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


New Testament and are referred to a future 
which makes this world worthless. Does it 
make us happy when we are told we are only 
stopping here a little, while on the road to 
another? Does there not a feeling come over 
us that we might better sit down and wait? 
Of what use is all the work we do, if it is just 
to fill in our time? 

“ Why am I going on like this, unless it is 
that I feel the oppression of the weather? I 
awoke last night and could not fall asleep again 
on account of the heat, so I rose and sat down 
by the open window, where the night heaven 
looked down upon me with its countless stars. 
Then suddenly, when all around was so calm 
and silent, and yet so grand and wonderful, 
a feeling stole over me as if I distinctly heard 
my soul say: ‘This boundless expanse con- 
tains no heart whose pulses throb in harmony 
with yours/ I went back to my childhood and 
over all the past; I know not whether I slept 
or not; I sat in this way for hours, and it 
brought to mind the old diary and the regret 
that it was burned, and the thought that I 
would return to the old habit of talking to 
myself/’ 

Can anyone tell why some people make con- 
fession (of the thing which would be much 
229 


RED WHITE AND BLUE DAYS 


better kept) to either doctor or priest? Would 
it not be better to talk to ourselves, and run the 
risk of its never being read? We may not 
have a chance to read Sisero’s diary, but if 
she does not burn it, we will look for it. 


THE END. 


*30 


Printed under the Direction 
of H. Ingalls Kimball 
at the Trow Print 
New York 



























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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


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